Kanye, Toss Me 50 Mill, Let’s Change The World Together

d39146bc8bc845478890583accb3f0bf*Ahem*

I’ve been writing on this blog since July 2015, periodically at best, fragmented at best, turned it into a domain I could own, lost the domain because I couldn’t afford it, and now here I am, back to square one, reintroducing myself to the world of rants, vents, and sarcastic musings.

I realized how good of an outlet this place is, and I miss the interactions between new people, old people, and people in general. Fuck building an empire, fuck pleasing people, and fuck everything, in general. I think that’s a good way to start off this post.

In reading back a lot of my old posts, I laughed at my own jokes, humored myself with my own sarcasm, and cherished my vulnerable moments: essentially it was a huge ego trip. Isn’t that wonderful? How conceited can I sound? I could probably be worse if I tried. But what’s life without having a bit of an inflated self-esteem? What’s life without trying to convince the world you’re a god among men? Kanye knows what I’m talking about, right? No? No one? Okay.

Love Kanye. What he say in his new song, Yikes?

“Shit could get/menacing/frightening/find help/ sometimes / I scare/ myself.”

And

“I can feel the spirits all around me/ I think Prince and Mike is trynna to warn me/ they know they got demons all on me/ devil been trynna make an army/ they been strategizing to harm me/ they don’t know they dealin with a zombie. ”

I resonate with that on a spiritual level. That’s not sarcasm.

And, of course, the most influential line of his musical career:

“Scoopity Whoop.”

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That song took me to higher levels of consciousness. I sat at the computer listening to Lift Yourself, nodding to an average beat, but that next verse? That NEXT VERSE THOUGH? Damn, I just didn’t really realize, I guess. I don’t think I’ll ever find another set of bars that chills my veins like “Poopity Scoop, scoopty whoopty poop”. Or, whatever.

In 2015 I was twenty years old, barely out of the terrible teens, and in 7 days I will be twenty three, still barely out of the terrible teens I guess, and in my own apartment free of the reign of terror that has been my parents’ apartment. I have good memories and bad memories. The good memories are pretty good, the bad memories are pretty bad. Read previous posts for more info. I’ve basically put the last three to four years of my life in a chronological order on this blog.

I remember writing a post about my predictions for the 2016 election, and how if that base head neurosurgeon Ben Carson dropped out of the race, Trump would win. Well, what happened? Without Ben there to cancel out Trump’s stupidity with his own, nothing could stop Trump. Don’t agree with me? No one’s asking you to, but I basically predicted the future, so . . .

Now what I’m trying to predict is when I will find a competent psychiatrist. I’ve sort of come to the conclusion that it’s impossible. I had a good two months with a county-funded psychiatrist who listened to what I said and, for the first time in my life, found a set of medications that worked well with me, but when they kicked me out of the Mental Health building K because I didn’t want to actively kill myself anymore, because I still had a job, I got stuck with a regular county psychiatrist who, when I told her I’d stopped hearing voices, told me I was lying and sent out a prescription for a higher dose of my medication.

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If you’re wondering, I stopped seeing her.

If you’re reading this and are really confused, I’d suggest reading through a couple previous posts. I would also like to remind my audience that not everyone who hears voices hears them all the time, and not everyone who hears voices has/or identifies with schizophrenia–two common misconceptions. And not everyone with schizophrenia hears voices.

The fucking point is, if I tell you I’m not hearing voices, I’m not hearing voices. If I tell you I’m not seeing shit, I’m not seeing shit. If you don’t believe me, go to the back room, take your head out of your ass, and breathe the fresh air of reality, because you’ve been missing from it for too long.

If I don’t want my medication dosage raised, don’t fucking raise it. 

Now, here’s the tricky thing. In leaving that shitty psychiatrist and stopping all my medication, I not only put myself through some serious mental hell, I also lost the ability to find a psychiatrist or therapist at all.

*For global readers, insurance is what the United States scams it’s citizens with to get more money.*

With my propensity to freeze up talking to doctors, psychiatrists, and therapists, I often get help calling for new appointments because the anxiety paralyzes me. So I’ve pushed my family to help me call. We’ve been calling for two months now.

One psychiatrist has gotten back to us, after a week of him leaving voicemails, us leaving voicemails, and both of us missing each other. He asks how old I am, and what’s going on with me. My mother takes the call, and explains what I’ve described, and he suddenly has too many patients.

Liar rubber stamp. Part of a series of stamp concepts.

Every other mental health professional we’ve called and who has called us back and left a voicemail always, always said “I’m sorry, I’ve got too many patients right now” without needing to know any information about me.

This motherfucker said that after he learned what I was going through. What does that make me think? That he can’t take on a challenge. And, if that’s the case, at least have the balls to tell it to my face. Tell me you don’t want to deal with me. Tell me you can’t handle it. If you can’t admit that, fuck you, you’re a coward.

And most importantly, don’t ever waste my fucking time again.

If you’re wondering, most recently I’ve breezed through 5 new diagnoses (not counting the ones I had as a teenager) after seeing 4 psychiatrists and a few therapists since December 2017 (six months total) , and I only found out the most recent one because I sat in my psychiatrist’s seat and read her notes on her computer while she went to go talk to a colleague. If they won’t tell you what they write, read it yourself–a tip for anyone new to the mental health system. Just don’t get caught.

The diagnoses have been: GAD, PTSD, Depression, Bipolar 1, Psychosis NOS from oldest to newest.

Some psychiatrists haven’t agreed with the PTSD–how is that something to refute, anyway? They ruled out schizophrenia and depression with psychotic features. The psychiatrists in the hospital were bent on Bipolar 1 even though I’ve never been manic in my life, the one I saw immediately after my hospitalization wasn’t sure at all what I was dealing with (finally, an honest fucking response). The last one is hell bent on psychosis NOS. They all agree on the depression and the anxiety.

So, what have I learned over these last six months besides the fact that if I’m not actively suicidal and/or psychotic I won’t be taken seriously as a candidate for steam-lined mental health care? Other than, if I’m still working I don’t actually need any real help?

Absolutely nothing.

If I didn’t love my job, I would have quit just to add the dramatics they obviously want.

I welcome myself back into the blogsphere.

Mystery Blogger Award

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Thanks yourenotaloneinthisworld for nominating me.

I haven’t participated in one of these things in a while, mostly because I live under what some people call “a rock”. I prefer to call them “small, safe spaces under which people never look because they’re afraid a snake or spider may live there”. I live there because I am both a snake and a spider. Jokes on you if you thought I was human.

Anyway, with chain blogging awards come rules. With rules, comes anarchy. With anarchy, comes me. So I will follow the guidelines in my own style. As you can tell.

If you’re wondering what a mystery blogger award is, you’re not alone. Apparently the creator of this is Okoto Enigma. Kind of jealous of the name. Check out their blog here. Their definition of their award is as follows:

“Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates, it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve any recognition they get. The award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging, and they do it with so much love and passion.

-Okoto Enigma

If you support anarchy, of which flows through my veins adamantly, do not follow these set of rules:

  • Put the award logo/image on your blog.
  • List the rules.
  • Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  • Mention the creator of the award and provide a link to their blog as well.
  • Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
  • Nominate 10-20 people.
  • Notify each of your nominees by commenting on their blog.
  • Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify).
  • Share your link to your best post(s).

I will reiterate my stance on nominees once more: I feel incredibly awkward nominating people. I feel incredibly awkward typing how incredibly awkward that is. That being said, whoever I nominate will probably be people who I see most often moseying around my blog, or people who’s blogs have given me (and others) insight to a different perspective. However, if you feel compelled to completely ignore my nomination, I won’t take it personally. If anything, I just want to list the blogs so others can click on them.

For those who are still wondering who I even am, or why exist in this world–well, I’ve been wondering that as well. But I probably have a little more insight on me than you have on me, so here are three things about myself:

  1. Giving fucks is not a characteristic of mine. This means, as I’ve stated in many posts, my fucks generally reside on the curb outside of my apartment. Still confused? Stay turned for a post I write later today on how I teamed up (I was on a team, guys!) with three men in line behind me to create a force-field around our line from, as one guy put it, “a bunch of rude motherfuckers”.
  2. I am not human. I come from the stars. If you look out on a clear sky in places where light pollution doesn’t exist to the extent it does in main-land America, you will see my homeland arching across the sky: the arm of the Milky Way. I descended on Earth with no purpose, and have instead found many purposes. Looking forward to the day I return to the stars.220px-milky_way_night_sky_black_rock_desert_nevada
  3. After many years of confusion, after many years of hopping from professional to professional,  after much anger, exhaustion, and hopelessness, I will be seeing soon yet another professional for a possible autism spectrum diagnosis. After many concluding opinions from those doubtful and those convinced, I’ve decided to launch down that rabbit hole. Diagnosis in general means nothing to me, but the implications of understanding my infancy, toddler-hood, childhood, and now adulthood, kind of means something to me for some reason.

As you can tell, I often spew words from my head with no end in sight. I’ll try and keep my answers to these next questions short:

  1. If you could switch lives with one famous person for one day each year, who would it be and why? This is kind of tough for me, as I don’t recognize many celebrities or famous people. If we’re talking about the years 1856-1943,I’d switch lives with Nikola Tesla, just to be inside of his brain. Then I’d time travel back to the present day, switch lives with Elon Musk, and re-create everything Tesla dreamed of.
  2. What would be the best present you could find under your tree this year? Anything with a processing system i7 or greater.
  3. Let’s say you just won the lottery and are now the richest person in the world. What are the first three things you will do? 1) I’d buy out all the electric companies to shut them down, so when I switch lives with Elon Musk and recreate Wardenclyffe, everyone will have free energy. In case you’re wondering, all those jobs will be replaced with jobs to run the free energy sites. 2) I’d buy out psychiatric hospitals across the globe and turn them into peer respites, some of which will offer similar hospital services, but only if you want that. 3) I’d buy a lot of chocolate.
  4. What’s your personal opinion of social media? Social media disturbs me. I use Facebook for science articles. To use it to put blurbs about your life seems like a waste of a learning opportunity.
  5. If you had to loose all of your senses except for one, which would you keep? Even though it gives me a lot of frustration, I would keep my hearing for the sake of music. Music is creation, and it’s all around us, even in the rotation of car tires against the road. Sound is also vibration, and vibrations are the universe, as Tesla says.

Nominees:

If anything, click on these links, you’ll find some great blogs. There’s a huge other list on my blog homepage. It shuffles every few times you refresh the page, so you can find new faces.

If you choose to do the nomination, my questions for you, I suppose, are:

1)If you had any supernatural power, what would it be?

2) What’s your greatest accomplishment and deepest regret?

3)Who or what, or  both, inspires you?

4)What would be your ideal fantasy world?

5)Describe yourself in five words.

Feel free to answer, regardless of whether you participate or not, or whether your blog is listed above or not. I think questions can be a great way to fuel a new blog post if you’ve been stuck in a writer’s block.