Monthly Archives: October 2012

denzel and sandy take away my flight mojo

i think i’m scared of flying again.  i was scheduled to fly into laguardia this week to meet new facebook friends and reconnect with my son joseph.  then, as the dire predictions rolled in about hurricane sandy, i felt that familiar panic about getting on a plane.  the three days before imagining crashes,bird strikes, fuel starvation, sabotage–to say nothing of panic attacks, homicidal fellow passengers, delirious flight attendants, ebola virus transmission. .. .

i also watched the trailer for the denzel washington movie “flight” and although denzel is the sexiest man on earth, i wouldn’t recommend watching this. even if you’re the most placid of flyers or high on a mixture of ambien and margaritas, just the preview will make you think twice about anything aeronautical.

when i made a commitment to meet all 325 of my facebook friends during 2011 i was a white knuckle flyer.  okay, honestly, i was a three glasses of wine and an ativan before i get on the plane gal.  i probably was in more danger from that combination than anything else.

as the year progressed, as i got on a plane just about every week, i stopped being scared.  stopped thinking about it too much.  drank less.  didn’t even bother with the ativan.  started to feel wonderful as the plane gently or bumpily  lifted me into the air.

still, the hurricane spooked me and it’s been nearly two months since i’ve been on a plane.  i have fallen back into the habit of fear.  i’ve lost my flight mojo!

the airports of new york closed and i will reschedule.  but now i will have to teach myself again to sally forth.  at least i have a credit at delta airlines!

so here’s an experiment.  watch the flight trailer – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhUrWRV1cxs

now think about yourself on a plane.


the angels and demons in my bedroom

it’s every single morning before i even open up my eyes.  the angel i always imagine to be sitting on the window sill.  the demon lounging in bed next to me smoking a brimstone cigarette.

my personal angel doesn’t actually look like this. maybe yours does.  angels exist in the muslim, christian and jewish traditions but are ordinarily depicted as males.  is this picture a blow for feminism?

 

the angel was particularly adamant this morning:  i have finished revising the book about my facebook adventures of 2011 and had sent it to my editor at tate publishing.  but i need to sort through thirty to fifty photographic images to include in the book.  i had sold yet another book to tate yesterday.  oh, and facebook — yes, but not actually mark zuckerberg himself — had contacted me to find out if they could do a story about me.  it was a good day yesterday and included other blessings:  a friend had been nice to me, it was sunny and warm outside, the coffee was good.  and so the angel asks of me the same thing as every morning:  get out of bed.

the demon, meanwhile, has other things on his mind.

you’re fat, you’re old, you drink too much, you have a social life that is largely conducted on facebook, you’re irrelevant, you could die today and nobody would notice so why don’t you stay in bed and watch korean soap operas on hulu.com? says the demon

for a number of mornings, the demon has been very persuasive.  and i’ve watched eight episodes of season one and four of season two of faith about a korean protector of the king who travels through time to find a twenty first century doctor to save the life of the queen and then the surgeon . . . . oh, forget it.

today the angel won.  but only after an hour’s battle while i tried to go back to sleep.  the battle occurs every morning and it’s sort of the same for other people i’ve been finding.   my friends describe the enormous effort it takes to get it together every morning.

yesterday was a good day for angels watching over the facebook enterprise.  after opening at a stock price of $38 months ago, the company has lost half its value, closing at less than twenty dollars per share at one point.  the demons definitely were feeling pretty sure of themselves.  but this past wednesday, prices shot up an astonishing 19% to close at $23.  i betcha this morning when mark zuckerberg’s angels and demons were discussing whether mark should get up or declare a sick day, his angel had something wonderful on his side to motivate him.

do you have a conversation between demons and angels in your head?  is it mostly in the morning, like me?


even without the red shoes, there’s nothing like it!

i made a new years resolution for 2011 to meet in person all 325 of my facebook friends.  325 friends, 365 days, 13 countries, close to 60,000 miles on planes, trains and automobiles.

i had 325 friends–from college, from around town, from playing online scrabble, people who like my grandfather’s science fiction writing, parents of my kids’ friends, and some people i just had no idea why. i wanted to meet them all and figure out if we were “just” facebook friends or something else.

 

at the end of the year, my house sold.  my sons live in new york and ohio and neither of them really wanted me to move in with them.  i had no place i had to be and i had spent a year being everywhere so i could choose.

this past month, i took an apartment.

for most of my adventures, i carried with me a plush doll of the nineteenth century adventurer and explorer william clark. he has his own facebook page and we are facebook friends. now he resides in the bat girl cave which is very close to where i used to live.

i could have gotten one of those prefab homes in nome that i saw, or moved into the mumbai holiday inn which is the swankest place i stayed.  i could have opened a fruit stall in mexico city in the neighborhood i visited or i could rent one of those sweet apartments i saw in dortmund, germany.  but no, i ended up back in winnetka and i didn’t have to click my heels three times to know there’s no place like it.

but of course i have facebook friends to see in other parts of the world.  new friends on facebook.  i just got back from kentucky and i think the next trip is ontario and from there new york.

thursday night i went to a party in winnetka. everybody said “welcome back!” and i think they meant it. i was not actually wearing these shoes, but i felt like i was!

 

 


a guest blog about facebook depression

Facebook Depression: Much Ado About Something?

Posted: 18 Oct 2012 04:23 PM PDT

Facebook Depression

“Facebook Depression? Well, of course it’s real, Bill. Duh! We’re talking one billion users. Somebody’s bound to get bummed-out.”

Clunk! Well, I guess you got me there. Ah, but if Facebook – any social networking site, for that matter – and depression are pals, is it a strong enough relationship to assign a brand?

Hey, no doubt about it, the potential impact of using social networking sites upon one’s psyche can’t be ignored. Take a gander at these estimated monthly visitors numbers for the top five…

§ Facebook: 750 million

§ Twitter: 250 million

§ LinkedIn: 110 million

§ MySpace: 70 million

§ Google+: 65 million

Staggering, don’t you think?

Sure seems as though people are looking (needing?) to interact with others – even if it’s out here in cyberspace. And it makes perfect sense that potential liabilities such as Facebook Depression may drop-in at the party.

But let’s keep in mind these questions: Does using Facebook generate Facebook Depression? Or is it grounded in the maybe-fact that many who lean toward the depressive hop-onto Facebook more frequently? Hmmm…

Well, what say we dive-in and see what we can learn. Oh, given the depth of the subject matter, and volume of information, we’re going to have to handle our biz in likely three parts over the next handful of days. Okay?

Facebook Depression: Addiction Too?

As a clinician, if a client comes to me with an addiction issue you can be sure I’m going to focus upon depression (anxiety, mania, and stressors, as well) during the assessment process. Now, that isn’t to say all addicted individuals are depressed. However, in so many cases “where there’s smoke there’s fire.”

So, as we consider Facebook Depression, let’s first address Facebook addiction.

Researchers at the University of Bergen (Norway), led by psychologist Dr. Cecilie Schou Andreassen, have come up with some first-time, and very valuable, information regarding Facebook addiction.

Check-out what Dr. Andreassen has to say…

The use of Facebook has increased rapidly. We are dealing with a subdivision of Internet addiction connected to social media.

It (Facebook addiction) occurs more regularly among younger than older users. We have also found that people who are anxious and socially insecure use Facebook more than those with lower scores on those traits, probably because those who are anxious find it easier to communicate via social media than face-to-face.

Our research also indicates that women are more at risk of developing Facebook addiction, probably due to the social nature of Facebook.

Interesting, don’t you think?

As part of their research, the team came up with a Facebook Addiction Scale. And the scoring is based upon the following criteria…

§ You spend a lot of time thinking about Facebook or plan use of Facebook.

§ You feel an urge to use Facebook more and more.

§ You use Facebook in order to forget about personal problems.

§ You have tried to cut down on the use of Facebook without success.

§ You become restless or troubled if you are prohibited from using Facebook.

§ You use Facebook so much that it has had a negative impact on your job/studies.

Respondents are asked to rate each item as “Very rarely,” “Rarely,” “Sometimes,” “Often,” or “Very often.” Is Facebook addiction alive and kicking? Well, the research team says it is if one rates at least four of the items as “Often” or “Very often.”

Again, the presence of an addiction doesn’t always equate to accompanying depression. However, I’m not scratching my head if they’re co-occurring. And that certainly applies to Facebook Depression and addiction.


the third largest nation on earth welcomes its billionth citizen, er, user

it didn’t exist eight years ago.  well, it did but it fit into the dorm room of a harvard undergraduate.  and now it’s the third largest nation on earth, having welcomed its one billionth citizen on september 14, 2012.  it took china (biggest country) and india (second) thousands of years to make that milestone.

the united states of america has a little more than 300 million users, er, citizens. so think about it–mr. romney or mr. obama will be president to less than half of the people that 28 year old mark zuckerberg rules, er, services.  some people doubt facebook can sustain growth and add on another billion.  but mark’s been visiting china where potential facebook citizens are blocked by the government, and he’s had negotiations with russia as well.

still, mark zuckerberg is having a rough summer.  he’s having trouble making money.  right now, facebook makes a mere four billion in revenue last year.  that’s like each of us handing mark four dollars so we can post pictures of our cats doing cute things, our kids doing cute things, and inspirational messages.  google, with about as many users, squeezes $38 billion in revenue.  the difference?  advertising and google’s better use of mobile devices.

what facebook hasn’t said is whether the billion citzens of this online nation includes the fakes.  last year, when i made a new years resolution to meet all 325 of my facebook friends, i was surprised by the number of duplicate accounts, spambots, and businesses dressed up as friends.  it was roughly ten percent of my friends list and that tracks facebook’s admission that 9.7% of its users are “undesirables” of this sort.

one of my facebook friends that i “visited” last year was william clark, the nineteenth century explorer and officer in the united states army. he’s dead, he’s a duplicate of sorts to his biographer my facebook friend lanny jones and he’s not actually sitting here in my bedroom. i think he would be technically part of that 9.7% but i think he’s adorable!

 

it’s been a facebook bashing summer, what with the i.p.o. being a bit disappointing but you gotta give some credit to a kid in his dorm room who has allowed people to make an estimated 140 billion friendship connections.  that’s quite a friendly country you got there, mark!

 


homeless no more, the things i will not take for granted

running water, electricity, heat, internet, a refrigerator, waking up in the same place every morning, a bed, hanging up my clothes in a closet, a medicine cabinet, leaving the shampoo in the bathtub after a shower, keys, neighbors, pillows, hand washing lingerie and hanging panties on the shower curtain rod. . . .

this past weekend i moved into an apartment with facebook friend william clark, pictured here on top of the piano i had had in storage. this morning, the bed was delivered. next week, a rug is coming. my ex maximilian says that i have been “officially without residence” for three months.

 

i am a very lucky homeless person:  i have a credit card, i have means, i have a car, i have friends.  the friends are the most important part of the equation.  still, i have been tired.  i have been scared.  i have been weary of being on the road.  it is good to have a place to call home  and i promise to never take for granted the things  i have been blessed with.


there’s no place like the marriott and my car. . . .

grace is the granddaughter of my ex-husband. are we nonetheless related? and what should she call me? i’m settling on aunt arlynn but i’m open to suggestions.

i left louisville and aimed north for bloomington indiana where i would spend time with two of my favorite facebook friends.  elisabeth is my former stepdaughter but now i think of her as friend.  she suggested i stay at her house but i worried that i might be imposing.  as i lay my head down on the pillow, i knew i was in the right place.  hotel rooms and cars are not quite as comfortable as a single place you call home.  i talked about traveling with facebook friend andrew pearce the next morning.


i was given a great gift through facebook today.  friends stepped in to move things out of my car and into an apartment.   it’s small, it’s over an abandoned warehouse, it makes me think a little bit about the movie flashdance, but i’m so happy and from here i will sally forth to meet new friends.  it’s good to have a place that i can say “home”. . . . although it’s been great.  thank you, marriott.  thank you, minicoop!


no facebook friend left behind

i woke up thinking–i cannot leave her behind.  miss x was crying when i left her.

“i feel like i made and lost a friend in the past couple hours!”

“no, you haven’t,”  i said.  “you made a friend on facebook and you still have a friend.”

she wasn’t convinced when i pulled out of the driveway. she sat on the porch bench, crying. i felt awful.  i was tired, i was scared, i was driving so many hours.  i had so many more to go.

miss x is the 331st facebook friend i have visited since my 2011 new year’s resolution.  at that time, i had 325 facebook friends and i resolved to meet and spend time with each one during the course of the year.  i mean, who are all these people in my little solar system of mark zuckerberg’s virtual universe?

but as the year progressed and in this year 2012, i have been meeting newer friends.  miss x had seen a bit of news about me, had friendshipped me, and we’d been corresponding.  she thought she was inviting me to louisville, kentucky to give me an opportunity to test out my fearlessness against agoraphobia.  instead, we faced an interesting problem:  she drinks.  a lot.  much more than i do.  when i showed up at her doorstep at one thirty, vodka had been two glasses ahead of me.

we all find ways to quell the pain.  whether it’s prescriptions, meth, alcohol, video games, hoarding or the carbo load of a dozen doughnuts in front of the television set, we do it.  we have to.  times are particularly tough right now.  miss x lost her job fourteen months ago and has pretty much given up on getting another for the moment.

are you better off than you were four years ago? asked ronald reagan when debating then president jimmy carter. it’s a question every voter has to ask. in miss x’s case, the answer is decidedly no. she has unemployment benefits, but she would rather have a job. and her drinking–popov vodka mostly–has ramped up. jobs often give us purpose, which gets us out of bed and away from our poisons.

the breckenridge inn of louisville, kentucky had generously booked my room next to the “can’t sleep without the television on, argue at two a.m., have makeup sex at four” couple.  i so got to appreciate the room decor.

was it a good idea to go back?  to meet miss x again?  but i was haunted by the crying galpal.  and by something she had said.

“i started drinking because i thought i was too boring when i’d be with people, you know, at parties and such.”

i was thinking “that’s me”

i have often felt like a wallflower who can only manage with a glass of white wine.  and then i can talk with people.  and then another glass of white wine.  and i can sit still through dinner parties.  and another white wine.  i can be funny or witty or amusing.  one more white wine.  and i’m smushy in my thinking and scattered in my speech.  but i don’t notice by then because i have white wine saying “it’s all good.”

i messaged miss x at six a.m.  total long shot.  if she was up, i would return to her house.  we’d go for a walk.  i wanted this facebook friend visit to end well.  she had drank and fallen asleep and had awakened early.  i was packing up for the next facebook friend adventure.

i checked out, went to her house.  and that’s when i really met my friend.  the day before, i had met alcohol smothering my friend.

the facebook friend who opened the door, the three hundred and thirty first friend i have recorded about since i made that resolution, is bright and funny and witty and engaged in the world.   she looks sort of like lana turner or maybe jennifer coolidge.  she has a gift for seeing beauty and translating it into home decorating.  she has an empathy with cats and although one of her own is dying, she has a sense of humor.

jennifer coolidge is the actress who played stifler’s mom in american pie. this is sort of what miss x looks like. she would be chill with being identified by name but she wants to protect her husband.

we walked and we shared a morning ritual.  it is how i pray these days, having figured out that rosaries and om’s sometimes seem hollow for me.  we exchanged lists of ten things we are grateful for.  i was grateful for coffee that morning.  she was grateful for her husband and mother who are both loving.  we were able to exchange gratefuls for each other.

there are many days in which coffee has made my list.

we said goodbye.  well, goodbye sounds more final than what it was.  we hugged and kissed and i will see her again.  and i’ll even take up the offer of the manager of the breckenridge inn for a free upgrade because of the couple next door.  really, i should just remember that maybe the couple was celebrating and happy and . . . well, actually, i know they were pretty happy at four a.m. roughly thirty seconds apart from each other.

no secret–i love the white wine. we’re having a break up. i am using a drug that is weaning, subtle, strange. i am not a believer in twelve steps because i think we do all need something to get us through the day.

i strike north for bloomington.  i thought i would be aiming for tennessee but my friend in cookeville has distractions.  i drive.  i meet my facebook friends. i ask for their friendship to be in person.  mark zuckerberg introduces but there’s nothing better than right there, right now.


we are all that one lost sheep–facebook friend #331

a week ago i posted about alcohol.  specifically, my relationship with white wine.  i didn’t feel great.  in fact, i felt pretty damn lousy.  the self-loathing ticker was high.  i had returned from florida and never got my bearings.

especially since on wednesday of last week i had a martini for the first and last time of my life.  and was suitably embarrassed and mortified by the effects and consequences.

but i never felt quite so bad as when facebook friend #331 messaged that i couldn’t come see her.  i had thought she was an agoraphobic unable to leave the house.  i thought i was being a good friend to show up, say “hey, i can do it, so can you” and i was wrong.

“i can go anywhere.  i don’t have a problem with getting out of the house,”  miss x* assured me.  “i don’t have your problem.  but i read your post.  i drink too.  pint of vodka a day.  but that’s down.”

“i’d want to meet you sober.”

“forget it.   too scary.”

“well, scary for me too.”

i told her i would drive to kentucky, i would knock on her door and if she opened the door, saw me, slammed the door it would be fine.  at least, she would know that her facebook friend wanted the best for her.

sunday night i picked up my messages on facebook and my phone at ten fifteen.  she wanted to cancel again.  i called.  she was hostile and frustrated.  her thoughts were expressed like the first break in billiards, with three balls dropping in pockets, the rest bouncing against the walls, and the eight ball scratching.

the problem to her was that i hadn’t been in communication with her since thursday.  that i didn’t phone her.  that i didn’t keep lines of communication open.  that it was too much pressure to clean the house in anticipation of my arrival if i wasn’t going to arrive.  and time–there needed to be an exact time.

i have a garmin gps that was purchased for me by a friend who was tired of reading blogposts in which i fretted over having gotten lost. the garmin tells me the exact time i will reach a location. trouble is, i still get lost. i turn at the next street over, i miss the exit, i don’t see the turnaround. my garmin shrieks “recalculating! recalculating!” and then i say . . . @%#xte$!!!!

then i listened closely.  i wasn’t listening to my facebook friend who is witty and funny and adorable in her posts, statuses, and comments.  no, i was listening to alcohol.   alcohol had taken over the conversation entirely.  and i got the impression a lot of people had said “so long, happy trails to you” when alcohol had butted into their chats with miss x.

so i said i would call her in the morning and we’d figure out whether we would meet.  i admit to thinking “nope, we’re not doing this”

in the morning, she was the miss x i had been communicating with on facebook for the last year and a half.  the one with witty, wry observations.  the one who had seen a news piece about me and friended me, saying “i don’t have your problems but boy i sympathize”  she was nervous, but so was i.

i drove the three hours from indianapolis to louisville.  i was a little early, but i thought that was good because i would catch her before she had a chance to pop a pre-meeting vodka.

i wasn’t early enough.  and she had one while i was there.  again, i had a conversation with alcohol.  i couldn’t keep up with the tangents.  and i couldn’t keep up with the emotional swings–happy, insecure, witty, hostile, frustrated, apologetic, demanding, paranoid, sweet as can be.

she said don’t judge me and i said i can’t judge you i am in jail with you.  i’m just standing closer to the door.

i shared with her what i’m doing to rein in my drinking.  she was intrigued but argued the point of whether i was an alcoholic, a heavy drinker or an amateur.  she drank more in an afternoon than i could lay down in an entire night–but she herself said she could drink any 250 pound man under the table.   she considered me an amateur.

can you name another disease besides alcoholism that’s self-diagnosed? miss x considers me an amateur, social drinker. there’s people who think of me as off the charts, ship me off to rehab. the horrific thing is the very people who will say “you have a problem” are often the people who are the first to bolt. miss x has had some bolters. i want to get out her address book and say “hey, whassup dude?” because she’s brave, smart, funny and needs all friends and family on deck. it is said that when the lions go after the gazelles, the pack separates the weak for slaughter. no, don’t separate her from the pack.  she’s your best one, the one that will tell the lion what’s what.

i believe some people drink because they are bored, boredom being shorthand for no purpose, because they are that one lost sheep that the shepherd needs to find.  miss x is unemployed, with no children to care for, no volunteer activities and–by her account–no friends (hello, i’m here in your kitchen!).

i suggested a goal, a purpose.  doesn’t matter what it is, just that she try.  i made a new years resolution on december 2010 to meet the (then) 325 facebook friends i have.  that’s a pretty silly life mission when you think about it.  but if you wake up every morning with a reason to push, you do.

miss x is adorable and beautiful and we made a contract that her goal was to walk one half hour before ever having that first drink. i’m a big believer in small goals and big goals. this is a small but manageable goal.

 

i was sorry to have to leave her.  she went to a nephew’s house to see relatives and help with a little one’s homework.  she said “i feel like i’ve gained and lost a friend in the space of a few hours” and i said no, i became your friend on facebook a year and a half ago, and i got to meet you today and i will be your friend tomorrow.

i was speaking the truth.

i am striking for cookeville, tennessee tomorrow.  i believe i meet two facebook friends, one of whom WILL be the inspiration for miss x.  i’m just playing matchmaker for two new best friends.

 

i truly hope miss x believes me because we will meet again, my 331st facebook visit since january 1, 2011.

 

*she kept saying i could use her name, that she had no secrets, but i think for the moment i’d like to let this her be miss x.

miss x looks very much like lana turner from the 1966 movie “madame x” about a mother who sacrifices everything for the welfare of her husband and infant son. except for the fact that miss x wore blue jeans.  i am so enchanted by the movie madame x, which i watched when i was barely an infant, that i like calling my friend “miss x” 

 


break up sex with alcohol–and a minor miracle

according to the noted philosopher neil sedaka, breaking up is hard to do.  and i have decided to break up with alcohol and it’s rough.  i researched some options.

americans are a congenial, sociable, dyi lot.  so alcoholics anonymous is a very american way of dealing with the breakup.  and i’ve gone to meetings.  unfortunately, i did this when i lived in the small town of winnetka.  by the time i was pulling into my driveway after my first meeting, i was getting phone calls from people who hadn’t been at the meeting but who knew every detail of my story, every tear i ever cried.  what part of anonymous doesn’t exist there?  and besides, aa has a fifteen percent success rate.

if a prescription drug for strep throat had a fifteen percent success rate would the federal drug commission approve it? would you take it? would you give it to your kid?

americans also love their first ladies–dolley madison, jackie kennedy, michele obama. . . and they like honesty.

betty ford, the wife of president gerald ford, was very “i don’t care who knows” about her struggles with alcohol and drug addiction. she opened the betty ford clinic for people with similar issues.  she passed on in 2011 and was one of the most popular first ladies of all time.

trouble is, the betty ford clinic approach (inpatient thirty days) is expensive, my insurance wouldn’t cover much of it, and my premiums would skyrocket.  besides, i didn’t think of myself as quite that bad off.

i stumbled upon a solution.  a drug that’s not generally sold in the united states.  does well in europe and asia–i guess french folks don’t go to meetings which might explain a lot about the european union.

the medicine is taken over the course of eight weeks.  like an ssri antidepressant (think prozac, zoloft, paxil), it works on the brain’s pleasure receptors.  it is meant to cut off the connection between chardonnay and a buzz.  it is, again like an antidepressant, not likely to make any difference for several weeks until a critical level has been dumped into the bloodstream.  unlike antidepressants which stop working once you stop taking them, this drug is supposed to be taken for eight weeks and then you stop.  i suspect the reason one stops at eight weeks is that one is supposed to develop good habits. and keep them.

the first night i took it i drank a martini for the first (and last) time. it was made for me by a facebook friend and i will share the recipe because it was just as good as breakup sex can ever be.

breakup sex martini

you’ll need:  fresh basil leaves, lemon, ice, shaker, vodka, running tap water

cut up and crush the basil leaves with the back of a spoon or a mortar and pestle if your kitchen is well equiped

cut lemon in half

put basil and ice in shaker.  squeeze lemon juice into shaker.   leave the seeds–it lends verisimilitude

add vodka and shake

pour into glasses

when your guest says “i’ve never had a martini.  it’s going to be too strong” retire to the kitchen, run the tap water (not into the glass, silly!) and say”this’ll be okay!

oh, did my head hurt the next day and i felt so discouraged.  i had no home.  my car was in the shop with bald tires and all my clothes.  i felt unmoored and full of self-loathing.  and i wondered if i was an alcoholic and should just resign myself to it.

founded in 1877, the pacific gardens mission in chicago has served homeless and lost souls. i felt like maybe i was lost. really lost. maybe they could help.

still, i dutifully took my medicine.  i went to a lady’s lunch.  the sort where there’s white wine and delicate salads and nobody eats their dessert.  ordinarily, i would have drank my wine, ordered a second glass and then another.  instead, i couldn’t finish the first glass.  i just didn’t want it.  i asked if i could switch to diet coke.

the next day i went to an funeral luncheon.  i started with a glass of white wine and again, said “i don’t really want to finish this”

at saturday dinner, i drank a glass with my meal and then after dinner ordered a glass but didn’t drink any. . .  even though i was paying for it.

does this mean the medicine works and i’m just an early responder to changes in brain chemistry?  i don’t know.  i will find out.  but i have noticed subtle minor tiny miracles that have made me so grateful.

i’m not identifying the drug.  because if it changes my brain chemistry so that i think i’m a dog and i start barking at postal workers, i don’t anyone else to have tried it because of me.  if it works, i’ll let you know.  if it doesn’t work, i just have to think of other options.

i don’t want to be a teetotaler, i don’t want to proselytize, i don’t want to stay in a clinic (unless they have wonderful room service!).  i just want to get to the place where i think i’m just pretty average.

i got the car back (and my clothes!) and aimed south to indianapolis to meet the three eastman sisters, two of whom (julie and susan) are my facebook friends. clare (far right) does not have a facebook account. neither does sophie the dog. i have many friends on facebook who are dogs and one cat.  facebook has been cracking down on accounts held by nonhumans–that is, businesses, spambots, animals, historical figures, and people who have duplicate accounts.

i aim south for louisville, kentucky–home of the colonels and the derby.  why?  to visit a facebook friend of course!  and this one needs a miracle just as badly as me!


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