Pajiba

A thought provoking review. Its worrying how much a book written 4 decades ago can still have so much relevance.
I was the opposite, I hated school and only went to uni because it was the 'done' thing. Im glad I went though.
However as I am stuck in a job that has nothing to do with my chosen profession and basically is just paying my bills I shall not be reading this book it may depress me too much. Nay, I shall stick with my scary, brutal, violent crime books. They calm me down.

so...was the book good or..

That's the difficulty faced by people who are in the lives of the mentally ill, but are not sick themselves. We know now that there is a genetic pre-disposition towards it and often runs in a family. But sometimes weird shit happens too. High blood pressure runs in my family, so we take that into consideration when making lifestyle choices. For the ill though, you don't have a sphygmomanometer to produce a reading. If only there were a machine to says 'You have 48 cubits of crazy today, increase your B-complex intake. Symptoms and treatments vary wildly and prognosis is difficult. The whole enterprise is nebulous because you have to advocate for yourself and bear the slings and arrows of disbelief, denial, anxiety, etc. that you can expect from some people. In most of the most important ways, it's totally invisible, so while you may see some changes, it's hard to express it empirically or even know if the statements have merit.

I know that when I got sick, it took a solid weekend of explaining (and re-explaining..oh boy) how I came to be diagnosed. A couple of people said 'but you don't look sick, or act like a sick person'. Maybe sensationized portrayals in popular media have done a diservice to the ill, insofar as you have to market your illness like a sales pitch. But the ill person will do extraordinary things to cope and play along to get along because you're nervous about how people will react and how their perception of you will change.

I think that in that respect, having an illness that doesn't involve some kind of personality disorder is easier for some to accept, because the body is just that--the shell, the meat. Though it very often have damaging results outside of the purely physical, that too is easier to accept because it's an expected reaction to that kind of duress. When the mind is affected, it leaves a lot of questions both in yourself and the ones around you. If you're not the person you thought you were, who are you? You'd like to know, but the tool that you use to discern those things is the very one that is compromised, so there's a sense of not feeling safe in one's skin--whoever's it may be.

So when you see someone 'snap', it can look like it's over nothing. It very well could be. If your chemicals and hormones are all out of whack, you have a lot of 'WHUCK?' moments and say and do these terrible, destructive things. Sometimes it's because you want to be an agent of change, sometimes because you can't control yourself. Relationships and bodies get broken up because of it, yeah. Ask a lunatic who knows...it happens. If you're depressive, it doesn't always mean that you're depressed--although you have that too. It can be boredom, listnessness, apathy, etc. And if you're manic, not necessarily happy, you're agitated, irritable, impulsive, energetic (but not always productively so. It's a clusterfuck salad and today's special is 'crazy'.

I know right before I sought treatment and was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and bi-polar disorder, my life was going straight to hell and I didn't care anymore because I just couldn't handle any aspect of everyday life. I turned off my phone, stopped checking my mail and stayed in bed for two weeks. I smelled like a dead rhino's cunt and I didn't care.

So, you know, on the outside the snap might look like a prelude, while for the ill person it could be very close to the end. But if you know someone who you suspect have mental illness, you have to approach that person, not the other way around and you have to catch it early because it will get worse. Tumors don't just go away by themselves and you can't tell malaria to just snap out of it.

Jack - you are a fucking dick. Seriously. Eat shit.

Aw. It's just a little computer screen, but yes, that soft glow of familiar screen names on my monitor always give me a chuckle and a few moments of sweet repose. Can't go wrong with that. It's in the little and caring ways that we can show off a bright face and spirit of grace, so I thank you for being my knight in righteously indignant armour, samantha t. In any case, we can only hope that the people with whom we come in contact in any capacity never have to endure the trials that precede the intimate understanding of such things as these.

But as we're invoking the name of Christ the shepherd: flock you.

I'm sorry Egon Schiele got into art school and you're walled up in the abandoned Spyrograph factory, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry that a certain 'Saucy Jack' didn't accost you for a bit of rough trade just to mix it up for one night in Whitechapel, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry you weren't around during the times when Spartans threw defective babies off cliffs and Carthagenians practiced infant sacrifice and we're stuck dealing with the fallout now, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry Charlotte Corday wasted herself on Marat when she's needed here, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry that your house wasn't scheduled for ransacking until the day after Atilla the Hun's wedding, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry Paschendaele is well-marked, should you decide to have a mud fight there for some reason, but you know what? Flock you.

I'm sorry that we were having a conversation and fleshing out some queries about the protagonist, and I'm sorry that there are so many people who deal with this particular issue or know someone who does and they don't know how to broach it. I'm sorry that so many people are in such a low state that they take their own lives-- which is devasting to all who know them. Next time I'll know to send my comments to Il Duce for official approval.

I can be as crass and vulgar as anyone, not hard at all. You've made up your mind about me, and seemingly have some kind of dignity allergy, so carry on as you will.

All told, I'm sorriest that I can't see your face so that I could say that illness is not an easy thing to explain in literature or life, so sometimes it gets away from us. But you know what? Fuck you.

I won't be hanging around this thread to see what delightful bon mots this births. I hate flame wars, and if read this far, by now I'm probably being imagined as a humourless Apollyon surrogate. Let the character assassination begin! But you know, by the by, I don't want to see anyone on these boards let someone talk to them like that, either. I can't enforce it, and I'm not playing the embattled kitten, but I remember discussion here recently about the decline in cordiality or even basic respect round these parts. Moralizing banshee though I may seem, I don't get it. If you act like an arse you just die an arsehole. Sweet victory.

Once upon a time, there was such a thing as 'class'. Fight for it, guys.

You know, I said wasn't going to come back, but this morning just provided the most perfect post script to last night's--whatever that was, that I seriously couldn't keep it to myself, all locked up in the Doubting Castle, there.

I leave verbose responses often on this site, no secret. In real life, I can tend towards the inscrutable or taciturn. BUT, I've been trying to apply that same spirit of go-for-broke openness, and there's actually something to be said for it.

I got a phone call this morning from someone who is very dear to me who has decided to take on some counselling to work through some difficulties. Our problems aren't the same, but I was told that after watching me take timid steps towards being really serious about my health, this person didn't feel like there was this overhanging stigma around it, or a sense of truly being alone in despair. I picked up some community outreach program types of papers and later today we're going to talk about it--this person has already had a consult now. I mean, how can you not smile about that timing? If it were a movie, I'd point and laugh in its face, but it's sweeter than fiction, my possums.

So, uncool though I may be, I have nudged someone into a direction from which real growth can occur. I helped someone today, so screw it, I feel great about that.

More kind words. Thanks, all.

Now back to the hard core nudity we love so well at this site. Hey, Hong Kong Phooey Kegger at my place! Whooo! (No DuckTales allowed. There were...problems)

I'm thinking I should change my name to Jean-Baptiste Emmanuel Zorg. Think about how one little destructive comment on the internet has provided the oppurtunity for a whole community to rise up and smite the dirty bastard who dared make a comment to an internet drama queen. Now you can all bond over what an ass I am and form wole new friendships out of the ashes of my douchebaggery.
No need to thank me. My work here is done.

Why don't they make the whole plane out of that black box stuff.

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