surprise from granny?

Granny's house is so far off the road and so isolated. The place drives me nuts. I go there and stare. There's dust all over. Granny was a great cook and a big reader, but wasn't big on cleaning and I don't blame her for keeping the place a little messy, hmm it's more than a little messy, but that sounds nicer.
Granny's is like Yale, huge & drafty with very high ceilings. The last time I lived there, I felt so desperate and lonely.
I've become very used to opening my door and being right on the sidewalk. Opening my door and instantly seeing people walking & talking.
Shortly after granny's death, I had an unflattering memory of her and just as I was thinking it, one of her heavy, bulky purses fell on my head. I was in one of her closets and believed she or her spirit smacked me on the head.
My dogs were with me and one morning they pulled clothes hangers from out of the closet and there were strange brown cloths all over the floor.
Wrapped around the wires of the coat hangers were silk stockings. They looked new and never used. These are old stockings reaching up to the thigh and they'd get attached with the clips on a garter belt. There were about three pairs on every hanger.
I know my granny was a hoarder. I don't know what went through her mind as she wrapped these silk stockings around the hangers, and then hung clothes from them, it seems like she had hidden them or maybe didn't like wire hangers and thought of this as a way of padding them.Things that are hidden are more exciting than obvious things. I sometimes think that the devil wraps things with fancy ribbons. Temptation.
Whatever her reasons, I'll never know, but while I was tempted to try them on, silk is so soft and wonderful against the skin, I felt guilty and unwrapped every hanger and put away all the silk stockings in a bag and left them at the Goodwill drop-off.
It was kind of nice, I'd love to think granny set up a surprise gift for me, but she was a hoarder and probably kept these silk stockings under wraps for an emergency.
I'm glad the very hot weather is all over with, I'm really loving the cooler weather.
This past weekend was horrible. I had the worst hangover of my life.
Luckily, The Real Housewives of New Jersey was on tv and even in all my pain I could smile watching Teresa "flipping the table".
I took 2 Advils waking up and couldn't really remember why I felt so shitty. I was over the toilet puking and the vomit came out both mouth and nose, it was all liquid but suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I was choking on my vomit. My uncle had died that way. I was stricken with panic and grabbed my bath towel to blow my nose and saved my own life.
All Saturday, I felt as though I were poisoned, shaking,weak and walking like a 90 year old man.
I restrained myself from vomiting anymore the entire day (it's hard). I ate and drank nothing.
That morning I got this awful ammonia smell in my nostrils and I still cannot smell anything. This ammonia smell is subsiding very, very slowly. I was told that some of the vomit got into my larynx and it will take time to get that ammonia-like vapor and my sense of smell back.
The only good thing is I have only drank a couple beers since and that is how it's going to be from now on.

having a bad time

The whole month of July brought me so many troubles.
Too depressed to really focus on anything.
The major factor was that I brought Mitzie to a groomer because of tangles in her hair. I wanted her to get a good haircut mainly. She's a tiny Yorkie with very fine hair and I like to keep her hair longer cause that's her at her cutest.
Well, I brought her to a groomer only because I wanted her few tangles removed and the damned bitch did accept her, but upon picking her up said " I reported you to the dog warden because of the matting. "
She threatened to remove my Mitzie from my custody {something I could not live with}
I love my dog. I spoil my dog with food better than I eat myself.
This completely devastated me as I love Mitzie so much.
Anna Grace has a Yorkie and I've read many a post where her separation from her dog was something that caused her extreme emotional heartbreak. I understand her heartbreak, especially after feeling the possibility of my Yorkie separation first hand.
It was an awful July and since, I've brought my Yorkie to another groomer every 2 weeks as to show the importance of her existence in my life.
So , yeah I wallowed in pain and an excess of beer.
I hope August isn't as traumatic as July.
I'm going through my savings because I haven't since found a painting job.
America is truly suffering unemployment. I 've suffered through and experienced it so well myself.
I need my Mitzie. Please join me in the hopes that she will not be removed from my custody and my life.

I like his kimono

Remember this song? He's almost too pretty, but I love that kimono.
Rushing to the dance floor every time they played this song.

black and blues

No sooner than my head touches the pillow and I'm fast asleep, sometimes before I've gotten that far.
I awoke on the floor a few days ago and now have horrible black and purple bruises. Three on all sides of one knee on my opposite arm and thigh and ankle.
Then I banged into something and tripped at the grocery store and have two toes taped together.

Things will get better. I spent some time where I wanted to be.

the bluest of a July day

Escapism.
Hedonism.
I can only take myself seriously for a limited period each day.
I get tired of being "responsible", of being necessarily serious and of dignity.
That's OK for the time I mask myself for society.
Somethings are best left unseen, for example, me in a dress.
I think if I were gay,I would not stay in the closet.
I'm getting older, not wiser, but definitely older.
I have really gorgeous beaded gowns and dresses that are quite formal. Some that I'd wear to parties, to concerts,to clubs.
I've spent the summer painting houses and I make just enough to pay my rent, to buy my favorite cheeses, Brie and Danish Blue. I read books from the library.
When I was young and had much more money, I bought hard-to-obtain books. One was an autographed book by Andy Warhol. I still have my rare book collection, although I have little money these days.
I'm sitting with a few ice cold beers. I've been drinking in excess every night. It soothes and comforts me. I remember a quarrel last night, but not the subject. Last night I decided I needed a little bit of disappearance. I wanted no company but silence.
I really get into moods where silence is my best companion and my beer and my xanax and elavil.The elavil is really the best because I'm on the highest dosage, but have spares and when I take two, it wipes me right out.
I've had a rough time these past few weeks.I strain to maintain a bit of happiness.
I look into the mirror and smile for a long time.
I smile a lot when I'm depressed. It's senseless, but I believe by smiling it may trigger something in my brain and maybe a little joy will register in my brain.
I try tricks on my brain.
It's probably a very weak and small brain and I figure I can cheat it well.
But it's probably best kept in a sedate state when I'm unhappy.
I've noticed recently in my dealings with others that I'm always wrong.
And shortly I'll be asleep and that's something I look forward to so much. It's waking up lately that is the saddest part of my day.

Annnnnaaaaa ! Please be in this world!

I never heard her voice or saw her in person. I only knew Anna through her words and photos. I hope to hear that she really hasn't left this world. Anna, you are special and everyone loved reading about you.You're unique and beautiful and I hope that it's all untrue. I feel sick, really. Please be here.
"Anna Young...
*She's alright and I'm glad for that.

junk piles and cotton panties

My car parked in the drive way has even more scratches and dings on it than ever.
The drive way is used as a junk pile and metal scrap facility.
The other tenants get good money, especially for copper and soon will be piled with broken air conditioners and worse,for me is the tiny shards of broken glass and nails.

This is where I'd rather be,close to water.
It's so hot, humid and nasty that I've decided my briefs are too heavy. I'm going to the ladies department and pick up some thin cotton panties.Even the pouch on my briefs is adding more fabric than I need.

"You're not my type....but I like you"

I need closeness and skin to skin contact. Where am I goin'? I'll pause before I get there.. I had a date this weekend. She told me I wasn't her "type" We were nowhere near my disclosing the dressing thing. "So why's that?" I asked. "You're kind of scrawny, but I like your voice, it's deep." The way she flashed her teeth reminded me of a rabid dog. She seemed as though she was gritting her teeth, but that's how she smiled. It looked painful. Physical attraction matters, initially at least, but I consider personality first. My friend and I will never fight over a girl. He's into bones, malnourished & anorectic. (what once was called "a carpenter's dream") When we're looking, our eyes never follow the same girl and that's perfect. Bones poking from underneath is not sexy.

helpless girls & broken dolls

I have not seen my sister in a long time until the beginning of May.
Initially she appeared alright, sometimes a little fuzzy with zig-zaging conversations. She'd been zoning out often and returning to the conversation on a new subject.
She didn't answer questions directly but said what she wanted to.The question she evaded never really appeared to have registered in her, like selective thinking.
Initially, she was very active. More and more, as the month progressed she's become passive (far from her natural state)
She'd been talking about morphine patches, Duragesic and Norco and I knew that she'd come across some people she can obtain them from.
Driving around with her as teenagers was tough. En route she'd have the window rolled down waving & shouting to her drug providing friends. Not wanting her on so much drugs and I'd speed by these "friends" foolishly thinking I could take her away from drugs.
I introduced her to a different circle of people, but she had no interest.
Years have gone by. So many, since she'd begun resorting to drugs on a daily basis in high school.
Spending days going into nights convincing her to detox and spending hours phoning rehabs begging for a spare bed. Once after an exhausting day/night of phoning, I warned the nurse that she may very well die and very soon, if she could not locate a spare bed. Fortunately the nurse was moved and arranged to accept her in the facility. N was pretty much unconscious by this time and never protested the long ride to the hospital.
I was as strong willed as she was.
The guy she'd lived with for many years was shot dead in the ghetto section while looking to score for her.
We are both adults now and N is obviously using chemicals heavily.
She had a "stomach ache" (yeah, right!) yesterday morning when she visited me so she spent literally the entire day sleeping in her bf's truck.
When he got bored after a few hours of her sleep, he disappeared and turned up that evening drunk. Since neither was capable of driving, they spent the night sleeping in the vehicle. So much for the "visit".
She DOES what she wants. I no longer try stopping her. My only hope is that she uses some caution and doesn't get hurt or worse.
Her voice is a very weak, slow attempt at staying awake during conversation. Sometimes she's asleep before she has finished a sentence, most often it's just a couple words before she's back to sleep.
For someone involved , but not involved heavily into drugs, we feel mostly helpless.
This isn't a child, though it can seem that way.
N. once upon a time was a very pretty, bright and popular girl. I'd never dreamed then that she'd need drugs at all.
I was more the misfit, the weaker and obviously weird one. If either of us was to make drugs a way of life, I'd have thought back then, it would be me.
I don't feel like the winner, I feel like I'm losing my sister and that's a feeling I've suffered for so many years.
Accepting defeat has been a long term process.

Rest in peace, Mike

The owner of Toad's Place died last week.
I have many memories of Mike serving behind the bar too, he mixed and placed a drink in seconds.
NEW HAVEN, Conn. (WTNH) - The founder of Toad's Place located in New Haven passed away.Founder, Mike Spoerndle along with his friend and business partner Brian Phelps worked together at Toad's Place since it's opening in the 1970's.

"The first time I ever saw him, he was at the door, collecting money, he had one guy in a headlock, and he's collecting money in the other arm, he's got one foot up on the door, directing traffic. That's how I met the guy, you know," says Phelps.

Many well known bands played some of their first live shows on the Toad's Place stage.

Toad's Place on York Street is a magnet for some of the biggest names in rock, country and pop. Bob Dylan, James Taylor and Bon Jovi all jammed there. The Rolling Stones made a surprise visit in 1989.

"He and I were always elated when we'd have a monster act here, that was always. First one we had here is Springsteen," says Phelps.

Spoerndle's battle with drugs forced Phelps to finally buy full control of the company in 1995. But Spoerndle's legacy is much like the music he adored will always have a place at Toad's Place.

"He searched out new musical talent. He played it when others didn't even know about it. He brought it into the club for the first time ever," says Phelps.

doctors with dirty hands

Some time ago, I brought a female friend (not my gf) to Yale New Haven Hospital.

She had been calling me three or four times a day believing she was pregnant as she hadn't gotten her ladies troubles for some months.

The guy who may have impregnated her was already living with his girlfriend and their infant son and wanted nothing more to do with her.

Feeling pregnant and alone, she confided her worries to me. At the time she had no idea of what to do, though I could tell she was not in a situation that could welcome a child. Then she'd been buying pregnancy tests left & right all turning out negative.

She had no physician and her problem changed to a condition that led her to bleed excessively and within a couple weeks, she worried her condition was very serious. Finally she asked me to bring her to the ER because she bled very severely and incessantly day & night, even with methergine(?) tablets a friend had given her.

We went into the ER. I waited while she was led behind the main doors and shortly she'd come out to me and told me that the docs said they were unable to treat her problem and directed her to the ob-gyn department where she could be examined.

So, we walked to that door and there were dozens of women in the waiting room. But she did talk to the front staff and explained that she was hemorrhaging, literally hemorrhaging to the point that ladies hygiene pads were no use. They asked for her insurance info and she said she had none and they turned her away in a quiet, business like tone.

If she were meek as mice, she'd have left quietly as she was asked, but she wasn't. She raised her voice to a screech and screamed that they were sending her out "to bleed to death on the streets".

I remember this incident as though it were yesterday because I was so stunned that anyone in this shape could actually be refused any type of treatment or even some advise. I also remember because her screaming those words just pierced through my soul.

I led her out the corridor, all the while she looked back & continued screaming at them.

It seemed to her that she had one right only, which is the right to die.

Outside her major hysteria had her crying & screaming to pedestrians and passing cars. "They threw me out, they left me to die in the street." I'll never forget her words.

Suddenly the ob-gyn center director appeared rushing toward us on the street.

Realizing a potential law suit, he talked softly to her, persuading her to come back to ob-gyn, where she was now taken into the examining room ahead of the other women in the waiting room.

I took a seat, hoping they could help her. Shortly after, she had come out with a slip. She was told to return to the ER and show the slip, indicating the urgency of her problem and need for immediate care. Again I sat in the waiting room, but for a very long time. I thought about how had she been quiet & compliant , she may well have been dismissed "bleeding on the street".

She emerged looking much calmer and told me about all the diagnostics they'd done & of her follow-upt with their ob-gyn unit later that week, when they could come to some diagnosis and treatment.
We are still good friends. She mentioned the story on the phone the other day and permitted me to share it, as it is really a disgrace & a crime that patients actually do get turned away, so much for the Hippocratic Oath & the professionals practicing it ?

you couldn't mess around with granny

Above, Penny dances with Granny's carnival teddy bear. Granny didn't think the bear needed dancing and cut it short.
Poor Penny wanting to take the bear out for some fresh air and granny didn't think her bear needed it.
Granny blew a major fuse over Penny's activities with the bear and she received royal hell for it.

feeling the pains of my labor

I want to be wide awake, usually, in the summer. I get happiness at the beach, for some reason, I can just walk miles for hours, almost endlessly, it seems.
Someone told me it's the iodine in the salty air that gives people a lift.
It's such a pain going to out of town doctors. I hate sitting in the chair explaining & convincing docs that "yes ! I need them"
HIPPA law, this "confidentiality law" guards personal medical records from being disclosed. Under this law, the patient must sign a consent form if he permits his records released to another treating physician.
Yet, if one has a history of an overdose, even an accidental one, this information is readily obtainable without the patient's consent. No signature needed from the patient. For this reason, I have to travel way out and see doctors.
I feel as though I am doing something criminal & deceptive.
I understand a doc's not wanting responsibility if a patient is suspect ,but everyone knows you can take anything if you really want to leave the planet.
Circumstances CAN change. Attitudes change,outlook & feelings change. One's life can change from agonizing to fulfilling.
When I was given a script of Xanax 6 mg per day, one doc reprimanded me at my next visit for "taking advantage" of her trust, because I didn't mention the accidental od.
Shouldn't I have been the one feeling mistrust ? (my records released without my knowledge)
I'm very tired of the ordeal.

gone to the birds

I was asking around for an American yellow parrotlet(the European yellow are supposedly less vivid)I got a blue one instead, they seem to sell so fast.
This one is from New Jersey.Melvin is very receptive, eats from my hand. He loves broccoli, but isn't fond of sweet fruits, like Percy.
I'd love to pair one of these guys with a bright yellow female, but they're territorial and temperamental. If there is another male in view of a mating couple, the male may kill his mate with jealousy,Ouch!
Also fledglings must be removed from the father because he may kill male offspring.These birds don't make the best daddies.

Below is granny holding up a sketch she drew of her beagle.(it doesn't look like a dog)You couldn't tell granny that.In the sketch, the dog appears to have 5 legs, but she had explained that one wasn't actually a leg, but a sign of his gender....
Oh granny, I still get a kick out of you.....

favorite dresses

The gown above is a pink silk chiffon,there's a sheath falling from the neckline and it's double skirted. It is one of my favorites. I like the length cause I don't have "good legs"


This dress is embellished with fake diamonds and gold at the neckline. It's got multi layers of stiff crinoline which gives it a flattering shape, but not comfort. It's getting old and I no longer wear it.
I like just-below -the knee to ankle length dresses and prefer a stack heel to high heels & stilettos.
These images are very poor. Someday I'll have to photograph my favorites.

out of order

I miss my pc. It got infected a few days ago. I'll see what the repair man says. Either he can fix it or I have to replace it.

Felt like a cornered animal

I have a few "friends"?
That's the wrong word.
I have some people who invite me over.
I was suspicious of these people initially when while being asked over, would remind me "not to forget wearing" my "favorite dress". It's this stipulation that had me skeptical.
Being a Friday night, they entertain with dinner & drinks in their home.
They are rich engineers in aerospace. I'm a high school drop out. Anyway, I usually have no problems getting along with people.
They paired me with a bleached blond "date" and took us out. I've always thought the one who invites picks up the bill, but on top of being miserable for hours, I got stuck with paying my half and the blonds too.
They got their usual laughs out of me, that doesn't hurt much.
I listened to their high class bs, one got a plaque, one blew 500 dollars at the casino,blah,blah,etc.
While listening, I recalled one night last summer.
I got plastered at their house, no they didn't force it down my throat. Then thunder & lightening could be heard. I told them I felt unsure of my drive home, being drunk & with the storm.
They have 2 spare bedrooms & routinely fit 4 couples overnight on couches and so forth. I kinda thought it was logical to keep me overnight, but when I mentioned this, they promptly showed me the door and mentioned their cleaning lady arrives early on Sundays.
"Shit", I thought...are they really friends ?, sending me off blind drunk during a storm.
Friends, real ones are few.Phonies are a penny for a baker's dozen.I Won't be seeing them anymore.

my drunken Valentine friend

My phone rang every half hour & even less throughout the weekend from one person. My friend living in New Jersey is in trouble......again. We've been friends since I was 19, I grew up, (to some extent) and he did not. In our late teens, he was incredibly aggressive, e.g. bar room brawls, DWIs, pissing in front of a court house, etc. He was once a real looker & ladies' man. Before he got knifed in the face & punched out so much, his facial features are now crooked. He had to lie & claim to be suicidal to get detox treatment cause he had no insurance.
He was in and out of rehabs. He's the typical Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Friendly, helpful and very considerate sober & raging explosively when drunk. He moved, married and had three children over the course of years, we still kept in touch, but distance kept us from being best buddies anymore.
He is facing jail time and divorce, drinking heavily. My efforts failed from the beginning to help him at all. I still try. He needs mental assessment & treatment loads more than jail. I mean this a guy 0f 40 with the mind of an adolescent.
That was my weekend, answering constant calls to a drunken, senseless, raging friend and that is the purpose of friendship, right? to be there, no matter what.
Above,he is seated beside my granny.

Anna

Last night I watched a film called Boating with Jack.

I liked it. It isn't glamorous. I like raw & natural where things aren't polished up to a blinding shine.I like the everyday appeal in things. REAL.

No matter how I strive, I could never be as honest & exposed as Anna.

"This is me without make-up." I accept uncensored comments. I am here to take a bashing.

She writes straight from her mind to the post and "leaves". I think of it as leaving because there'll be a trail of comments, many anonymous. She doesn't bother addressing them. Some don't deserve it anyway. I like her "I don't give a sh*t" type of attitude.

She's free & relaxed. She mentioned something about being "in" to herself, maybe I don't remember her exact wording..something about being narcissistic.

I think she has good reason to feel this way. It's justified because she's herself & unique.

I would not be receptive to this type of commenting.

So the comments seem like they came from hell and there they sit, unattended & abandoned, like ashes.

We anticipate her eagerly, never predictable. Love it!

Broken Windows

After my 2nd discharge from the hospital(I was re-admitted for being unable to sleep)
I had complained of insomnia during admission to the nurses, who failed to inform the docs.
So the 2nd admission, I got another MRI of the brain(doc noted it to be "acutely normal")I got another EEG, the electrodes are "glued" to the scalp with some gooey white stuff.
I suspect these tests weren't that necessary, my only complaint, after all was insomnia.I was kept overnight and since I had a record of over doing it, denied me tranquilizers in favor of Seroquel.
After discharge, I began thinking my neighborhood was getting much worse.
Twice in a week, my windows were getting smashed. The first time, it was a window at the top of my long stairway. Not just the regular window, but also the storm window was smashed.
The next morning I was struck with alarm noticing the damage.
I called the landlord and since it was summer, he said it would be fixed before the week was over.
I wondered who & why anyone would be smashing my window. Then a few days later another window was broken, again close to my staircase. Another call to the landlord..so the guy who's to fix it, comes inside, I show him the windows and he tells me I'm the one breaking them! All the broken glass was outside, none inside on the floor.
Now how is that possible? My ex came to stay with me and she verified that indeed, I was the culprit.
I was taking Seroquel nightly, as prescribed. It knocked me out so completely, I "barely" made my way to bed.
Climbing stairs after dinner every night was a desperate subconscious effort to get into bed, one that I had no recollection of upon awakening.
I was not warned of the drug being so incapacitating, or of the diabetes it caused me.
Within a year after stopping it on my own, my blood sugar came down to normal.
I got back on my Xanax and have never slumbered against walls & windows since.

calls from granny

If anyone reads my junk much, here's a warning.....You will begin to loathe it. Much of my thoughts are centered around dresses & the rest, my late granny. I think of her so much, cause it makes me happy. I really smile when she enters my thoughts.
In her declining years, granny's phone calls changed. Her calls were up till then, short and direct, one "how are ya doing?", followed by short facts. Later, I'd answer the phone late at night, knowing it was granny, as it became routine.
"I don't know...I'm worried about the water bill."
"Really, granny?"
"I think one of my tenants is spiteful, he must be flushing the toilet all day." "Hmm."
"He's no good. That son of a b*tch. " "Let me change my shoes. I wanna be comfortable."
"Okay."
Pause.
"The hairdresser ruined my hair!", she's jealous of me.",
"Can you hold on? I wanna brush my teeth before I get too tired."
"Sure." She'd bring her tooth brush to the phone and I'd hear her brushing & a few minutes later she'd put the phone down and go rinse.
"I'm back!"
The calls lasted an hour or more, interrupted by various pauses while granny had me "hold the wire" as she did this and that. Whatever granny wanted to do was okay by me, cause she put up with my sh*t.
I really wish she'd call once more, announcing "I'm back." but that's what dreaming is for.

like Michael Caine

Remember the movie "Alfie" with Michael Caine?
He gets the girls, a good variety of girls too. I liked Mary Asher, who played the hitchhiker. I loved Shelly Winters in the film too, so buxom & with very relaxed morals.
Well, the end is kind of sad, he spots his infant and former girlfriend with her husband coming out of church after the child's christening. He returns to Shelly, but she has replaced him with a younger guy.
Anyway... I thought this guy was pretty interesting in the clip below.He was wearing such a unique outfit, I had to film him.
It features kimono like sleeves, a loud print skirt, satin sash and a tie. His headdress is what stands out most, but it's not an outfit I would wear myself. I have a tendency not to mix accessories. I think I dress very plain at least compared to this guy whose look I find interesting,funky and tacky.
All types of people make a world complete.

Character vs. Psychiatric Explanations

I like the bygone days, when people had character.
My granny for instance, she was a shrewd business woman with "character", some indefinable aspect to her that was unique. She was warm & hilarious with a very fiery & fierce side.
I imagine today, pscyhe docs have a "label" for that certain something that was part of granny. I don't know what they'd come up with, maybe hostile aggression or some other trash.
It all takes the beauty out of being human.
There's a telephone pole in my window view.
It's an attraction for people with pronounced character.
I've seen many talking to it. One guy, I know well, offers it a cigarette during the conversation. I don't know whether the pole joins him in the smoke break or not... but anybody who's giving enough to share smokes with a telephone pole is generous & considerate enough for me.
My Ma has always had the fondest regards for people who are challenged in some way. She (before retirement) would recruit with good pay, these people, that some may consider outcasts. Giving them a job, a title and pay gave them self esteem.
They had more self esteem then, than they do today, where now psych docs crush their spirits with unattractive labels.
Honestly, I think psych docs are a business and keep concocting new definitions to add to their billing files. The biggest breakthroughs in the industry of psychiatry hasn't been since Thorazine( once upon a time, served anyone with bad nerves) and Valium.The most recent additions are the Alzheimer drugs which seem to work well.
In some cultures, mental diagnosis is shrugged off and the individual (brought up with a strong back bone) continues his route, un-disrupted by shrinks.
Extremes in mood (bi-polar) can & are mimicked by anyone consuming stimulants alternating with depressants.
It should be a punishable crime, the professional disintegration of character, taking one's personality away.
I have nothing to gain or lose from my opinion, but I'd hate to lose my passionate disposal of such nonsense.
By no means can one's intellectual capacity be paralleled with their psychosis.A high number of schizophrenics are of genius IQ.(I'm not schizoid myself, but a voluntary advocate)
I saw my ex, being robbed of her beliefs by psych docs. She became victim of psychiatric abuse.
Slowly over time, she was convinced by psych docs that her nerves were so bad as to warrant massive doses of tranquilizers.She became a victim to her drug.A walking zombie, who only walked the passage her psych doc dictated. She believed what these professionals preached and was eventually consumed by it, in this process, she'd lost her identity as she'd known it.
The book of psychiatric "abnormality" is her new Bible.
I am venting.I think it's a cruel & crooked business.
I've been escorted down that hell by psychiatrists myself. Any guy into dresses has probably had to work as hard for his sanity as I have.I've gone to hell and back & everywhere in between to stand up for my rights as an individual.
And you know what, I'll share a smoke & chit chat with anyone who wants a discussion with that telephone pole, anytime.

dreams

These aren't my favorite and I don't know why their played over and over, my recurrent dreams.
One dream involves a room with dead and dying fish. The heads and tails have outgrown and stick out of the tanks. Huge gaping mouths face me with a pleading look. I'm racing to add water & food to the tanks. I never really manage to rescue any of them before I awake.
Another of my recurrent dreams is a batch of baby penguins in my bath tub. Similar to the fish dream, I run back & forth with pails of ice to fill the tub. Again I awake before I can really help them. I've dreamt these dreams over 20 years and I find them very unpleasant. All of my dreams aren't centered around trying to rescue something desperate & helpless. I have dreams that are so pleasant I cling to them and wake up longing for that which made me feel so contented.