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Inbox says (1) new message
Just then (2) new messages
My God, could it be.
Usually not
Usually naught
Unusually knot
My love in a Sir Mix-a-Lot basket
Spare the spearhead
the spearmint
the spirit man
Inbox says nothing
I wait on the porch, old school.

The last few days have been rough, friends. There was lots of neurological disruption in my head, creating a dream-like existence of fear and craziness.

An unnamed gay-filled friend, who knuckle-sandwiched me in the back at a movie once, described my condition in accurate detail: It was as if your entire essence of being was stripped away and all that remained was demented frailty.

Further, same poetic friend explained: You was like, “I think I should go off my meds.” At the height of a mental crisis. I was like, you need to eat.

But don’t worry, friends. Off medications, I did not go. I had a consultation yesterday and new medications were consumed as greedily as the KFC chicken I had for dinner last night. Yum.

This Medicated Lady is thinking irrationally again.

Irrational because.
I’ve been considering a diet consisting only of those flavored ice pops
especially the blue ones
the ones I like the least

Irrational because.
No one but me looks forward to a psychotic break

Irrational because.
It occurred to me that I’m tired of being medicated
tired of being in need of medication
tired of being in need
tired of being

Irrational because.
Right is what’s right
right as opposed to wrong
right as opposed to left
right as opposed to write
write as opposed to rite

Irrational because.
It makes sense.

Irrational because.

  • If you have to use Aspercreme on sore muscles, wash and rewash your hands. Once or twice is not good enough, because should the icy-hot fire somehow get around your what-not area, it will burn for hours and you will be miserable.
  • If you haven’t already done so, just get on with it.
  • Eat chips and chocolate.
  • Drink regular Coke and Pepsi.
  • Go to your bathroom stall at work and take out the book you’ve been trying to finish for weeks and go ahead and read a couple of pages per trip. You can make special trips. This will make you especially happy with feelings that you have duped everyone.
  • Don’t hesitate to sleep. Defend your sleep privileges to the death. If you have to tell the Gays they are too stressful to be around right now, so be it. You’re their Princess; they will surely forgive you.
  • Lay out.
  • Jump in random pools. Or at least imagine jumping in pools irrationally over a period of no less than 5 hours of constant “I should jump in a pool” loops running in your head.
  • Find an Air Force John. He will not have the energy to blow you off. He will want to cuddle with you. Except that maybe he only responded because he’s intoxicated and watching “WifeSwap” when he’s a 26-year-old military man. Anyhow, he will respond if prompted and offer distraction, if not frustration and perplexation.
  • Never mind if “perplexation” is a word. It should be. Own it.
  • Even if you know you will have to write about it again sometime, keep your darkness at bay. It’s the only way to keep from crying racking sobs every day.
  • Do not think about your dead aunt.
  • Do not think about your impending summer program.
  • Do not worry about tan lines.
  • Recognize raisins are good for you.
  • Stay conscious for only mere minutes of time until drifting off into something as close to peace as you get.

This rambling post and accompanying whinge is 762 words so I understand if you do not want to go through it all. I’ve underlined the important parts.


To answer Patrice’s question. I do not laugh on laughing gas. If left to my own devices, I get nice and high. My endodontist (sounds fancy but he basically does root canals for a living) was cheerful and nice and said “shit” a couple of times this morning. He sort of reminded me of a rambunctious and rednecked Jimmy Buffet. When he touched a nerve it hurt, so he gave me another shot. I wish he would have quit talking so I could float, and I’ll admit sometimes I just tuned him out and would grunt to make him think I was listening. I hate when dentists crack jokes, because a polite person feels the need to smile and when they have your mouth in oral stirrups, it’s very difficult and somewhat painful to go through the motions. They advised me to hit the ibuprofen for a few days, so I went and bought a stockpile at USA Drug. They said to call if I needed something stronger. I wanted to tell them that it would be fine for them to proceed with the dispensing of “something stronger” as I’m running low on narcotics (I ended up taking half a hydrocodone the other night so I have only have one half of heaven left). As a side note, he said I had a “weird” jaw, which was music to my hypochondriac ears. I wanted to ask him more about it and the possible horrific effects of having a weird jaw, but his large hands and instruments prevented me. Then, I forgot about it. I wonder if it would be inappropriate to call back? Was he kidding? Sometimes sarcasm is lost on me. Bryan sometimes has to enlighten me.


How to get sexy lips. Genetics are a factor, but one should just go with what they’ve got. Apply Blistex. Put on lipstick. Add a sheer lip gloss and ta-da! This is what they do on the commercials. You think that just lipstick will do it, but you can’t neglect the lip gloss for that ultra-sexy shine.


I am pretty sure the day will be better than Tuesday. At least I know other people are having worse days. I saw this truck slip on wet streets and sideswipe a red car. It appeared to be a minor incident so I politely merged into traffic and went on my way. Also, I will be getting my hair highlighted and I think it will be cheaper than I expected. My Entergy bill was $60 cheaper this month, too. My cell phone bill will be roughly the same because I have this ringtone fixation going on.


My aunt is wheezing again and she feels generally bad. She has pneumonia. She has emphysema. She was in ICU last week for breathing problems. Everyone was up in arms last night because they heard she had pneumonia. I was impatient. I’d like to say: “Look, assholes, she didn’t just get pneumonia—she’s had it for days and days. If you bothered to come visit, you’d be able to tell what’s what. Her condition isn’t necessarily any worse than it ever was. She’s fucking near death always.” So this is nothing new. Her white blood count is still flat. Her stomach has been upset for a few days so she has refused to eat, which makes her weaker. Last night, I coaxed her into eating part of her jello. It was a start. I made her promise me she’d take her breathing treatments (she doesn’t like them). My aunt J came down and it is beyond me why she didn’t force my aunt to eat something. I sat and held her hand for a couple hours last night and finally got sad about her situation. I resent my family so much. She knows nobody wants to come see her. The ones that do basically want something from her—money, pills. My mother comes to visit but she’s worn out, absolutely, completely worn out after she visits because she won’t stay at my house. She stays all night at the hospital. To make matters irritating, my mother said she saw my cousin and his wife in Wal-Mart and the wife said nothing to Mother. Mom thinks my cousin’s wife is jealous because my aunt talks about my being her rock to everyone and the wife thinks her husband should get credit. He does, bitch; my aunt considers him like a son.

Here’s how on-the-same-page poeticgrin and I are.



poeticgrin’s email:


Medicated Lady.  This is the same conversation we just had.


medicatedlady: What do you like to eat?

poeticgrin: Cheeseburgers.

medicatedlady: I love cheeseburgers.   What are you talking about?



My version:


This was our conversation.
Him (yesterday): you paint me as such an evil person
Me: what are you talking about? that post was a tribute to you.
Him: i have no idea what you’re talking about so I cannot tell you what you think I was talking about. I could not be bothered to scroll down and read the message I wrote to you yesterday. Henceforth, clearly you are crazy.
Me: Sigh. (I am forced to cut and paste his email)
Him: Cheezeburgerz are da bomb.
Me: Indeed.


Dearest reader, if you have no idea what we’re talking about, we apparently do not, either.

Due warning: this is NOT a creative or funny post. Unless you want to be subjected to paragraphs and paragraphs of endless venting and bitching, go ahead and move on to someone else’s blog and come back here soon. I adore you, dear reader; I just have issues that the medication is not smothering at the moment.


So my horoscope says I will be especially aggressive this Thursday and I think, oh poor world, you’re in for it today. Ask anyone. Ask Bryan. I stay aggressive. I stay offended.


(Okay, granted, Bryan is not the best person to ask because he truly is constantly offensive to me. He’s so judgmental and abrasive. For example, I invited him to come to my parents’ house this weekend and they are without electricity because of the ice storm and he was saying really appalling things like, “we can go up on Saturday instead of Friday, if that helps. I’ll help your mother in the kitchen.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so berated in my life. Except for that time when Bryan was like, “medicatedlady, I’ll help you move, no problem.” Why can’t he stick to NICE, pleasant things like accusing me of rapid cycling when I am clearly unipolar?)


I have been short with my mother the last two nights because 1) she wouldn’t just tell me how the gas heat in her house worked, and 2) my father starts talking in the background and laughing loudly every time my mother is talking to me on the phone and she’s like, “did you hear what your daddy just said?” I tell her, “no, I’m on the phone with you.” What’s really awful about this is my mother is truly, truly the sweetest lady ever (ask anyone, ask Bryan).


And then I have *minor* resentment issues with the potential loves of my life because I want fire and sparks and someone who actually calls me once in a blue moon and who I don’t expect to just call me out of the blue one day to tell me he’s back in Japan and oh, he didn’t have a chance to tell me beforehand but I was a good person to “hang out” with. And then I’ll be angry. I’m already angry, a sort of a pre-emptive rage/resentment combo that brings up my rage/resentment concerning other assholes who have sinned against me. What keeps going through my head is I can’t even say we’re friends because I think I was just someone to kill time with. I’m apparently only worthy of being someone to kill time with and I am angry about it.


No. I’m bitter about it.


So, world, I am rooting for you. I sincerely hope you can withstand my rampage. I’ve had too much caffeine already, world. That’s probably not a good sign either. I am trying to stifle myself with lots of food and ice cream and creating toilet seat flair on facebook, but I don’t think it’s working. But, fear not, world, my next doctor’s appointment is tomorrow.

a dust cloud


in sunlight and darkness

you wanted to be unsettled, disturbed

and so you are


With words, I want to bring forth tangible evidence of the bile lurking inside, luring me to death, over and over again. I feel pain, and I like it. I feel pain, and it’s unbearable. Then, I feel nothing. And repeat.


The next step is a “mood stabilizer,” which seems like an awfully late game play. Perhaps this might have been helpful on the front end. They add stabilizers when you’ve become “hard to treat.” No joke. Treatment-resistant depression, it’s called, as if it’s a cockroach that endures just because it can. It feels like depression is stronger than me, and it’s winning. Everyone tells me depression doesn’t last forever, but in some rare cases, it does. If it saturates your life and personality long enough, it’s a permanent condition. A terminal condition.  


youth is a deathtrap

we all fall into


I was crazy once
The birds flew around my head
Nested in my hair
I laughed
Ha Ha
He He
You made me like this
You made me insane
Ha Ha
He He
The peptwat inside screams
Sounds like a little old lady in heat
Time ticks slowly, quickly
I look for you
Long gone
Know you are the one who’s insane
Just wish they’d make shampoo
That would drive bluejays out

SOB with me

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