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.