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I've been taking buproprion for several years now, off-label: it helps a wee bit with focus, forgetfullness, and stupid sleep habits, and now I'm accustomed to it and when I miss doses I have more trouble with those things, especially the stupid sleep habits.
When Ted died the health uinsurance people transferred me from the workers' account to the retirement account. They've suddenly noticed that I'm taking an antidepressant and now they're bombarding me with cheerful brochures about how it's not all my fault, and I'm not alone, and it takes time to get better. It's an annoying waste of paper, is what it is. And worse, each brochure comes with an assignment they want me to do. One was I was supposed to check off thoughts and feelings I might have and if I had more than a certain number of them I was supposed to call "a health professional." And another was I was supposed to make a chart of good and bad things that have happened in my life and mark down in columns whether I thought that they happened because of me or because of people and events beyond my control. And if I thought I was the reason for the bad things and other people and things were the cause of the good things, I was in trouble.
Well, that's enough complaining about the mail.
On other fronts: I got a letter from the state assemblyman's office (signed by a Local Radio Personality, Rachel Ann Goodman, who does stuff on KUSP, or used to, anyway, I don't know if she's one of the ones who kept their jobs after KUSP went all NPR-PRI all the time), and they've spoken to somebody at UCSC who's weighing in on our side too. It's like: everybody gets it but the central HR office in Berkeley. And I suspect maybe they get it too but they have to turn it down first so we'll give them the stuff they need to make it look right. Maybe. I hope so.
I went shopping for Prague today. I succeeded in getting warm fuzzy boots, gloves, and ear muffs. I already have several scarves. No, the boots, gloves, earmuffs, and scarves do not especially match. This is fine. I got a phrasebook and three guidebooks (my excuse: it's a long, long flight). I talked to the phone people but I talked to the wrong ones for getting my phone activated for international.
I also bathed cat and dog and treated dog for fleas and a hotspot. And mopped the kitchen and bathroom, though I really need to do it over again. Upstairs is nearly cleared out, but shed is not all loaded.
I'm working harder on writing right now.
'm on the very last chapter of a Suitable Lover and I'm trying to work out what the actual denouement of Prospect Road is. In my mind it could go on forever and ever, not because I want it to but because it's so episodic and every time I think of a stopping place it seems anticlimactic. I think I know why so many novels end up with the protagonist becoming president or god or something. It's the only way the author can think of to get themselves out of the hole. But it's not right, you know? It dumbifies and trivializes the story to do that. Anyway, I'm not tempted. 55K words in and the guy's not quite through the first half of the first year of school. He's made a tremendous error, and thinks he's about to be shipped back (which will land him in a pre-emptive incarceration situation: those 5 people in the world who have read the Chuy book might remember what Ivar said about what happened to him in Gate), but what;s actually happened is that error has finally clued his teachers that he's been the victim of actual crimes in Gate and there's no way they'll send him back.
And that's the substance of the upshot. However, part of me will only be satisfied if this comes together via a big fancy setpiece with violence and shouting in it, and part of me can't see the people in this world actually doing that, so that the struggle over Mickey becomes a subtle, conversational thing, and I just don't know. If the former, it would be Cherryh-like, with tensions building and weird cryptic events leading up to a quick flurry of stuff, almost over before you know it, and it's clear that what happens next is world-changing, but our guy only knows <i>that's</i> over and he still has to deal with the fallout from his tremendous error.
Need to walk dog before going to help paint signs for a peace vigil.
When Ted died the health uinsurance people transferred me from the workers' account to the retirement account. They've suddenly noticed that I'm taking an antidepressant and now they're bombarding me with cheerful brochures about how it's not all my fault, and I'm not alone, and it takes time to get better. It's an annoying waste of paper, is what it is. And worse, each brochure comes with an assignment they want me to do. One was I was supposed to check off thoughts and feelings I might have and if I had more than a certain number of them I was supposed to call "a health professional." And another was I was supposed to make a chart of good and bad things that have happened in my life and mark down in columns whether I thought that they happened because of me or because of people and events beyond my control. And if I thought I was the reason for the bad things and other people and things were the cause of the good things, I was in trouble.
Well, that's enough complaining about the mail.
On other fronts: I got a letter from the state assemblyman's office (signed by a Local Radio Personality, Rachel Ann Goodman, who does stuff on KUSP, or used to, anyway, I don't know if she's one of the ones who kept their jobs after KUSP went all NPR-PRI all the time), and they've spoken to somebody at UCSC who's weighing in on our side too. It's like: everybody gets it but the central HR office in Berkeley. And I suspect maybe they get it too but they have to turn it down first so we'll give them the stuff they need to make it look right. Maybe. I hope so.
I went shopping for Prague today. I succeeded in getting warm fuzzy boots, gloves, and ear muffs. I already have several scarves. No, the boots, gloves, earmuffs, and scarves do not especially match. This is fine. I got a phrasebook and three guidebooks (my excuse: it's a long, long flight). I talked to the phone people but I talked to the wrong ones for getting my phone activated for international.
I also bathed cat and dog and treated dog for fleas and a hotspot. And mopped the kitchen and bathroom, though I really need to do it over again. Upstairs is nearly cleared out, but shed is not all loaded.
I'm working harder on writing right now.
'm on the very last chapter of a Suitable Lover and I'm trying to work out what the actual denouement of Prospect Road is. In my mind it could go on forever and ever, not because I want it to but because it's so episodic and every time I think of a stopping place it seems anticlimactic. I think I know why so many novels end up with the protagonist becoming president or god or something. It's the only way the author can think of to get themselves out of the hole. But it's not right, you know? It dumbifies and trivializes the story to do that. Anyway, I'm not tempted. 55K words in and the guy's not quite through the first half of the first year of school. He's made a tremendous error, and thinks he's about to be shipped back (which will land him in a pre-emptive incarceration situation: those 5 people in the world who have read the Chuy book might remember what Ivar said about what happened to him in Gate), but what;s actually happened is that error has finally clued his teachers that he's been the victim of actual crimes in Gate and there's no way they'll send him back.
And that's the substance of the upshot. However, part of me will only be satisfied if this comes together via a big fancy setpiece with violence and shouting in it, and part of me can't see the people in this world actually doing that, so that the struggle over Mickey becomes a subtle, conversational thing, and I just don't know. If the former, it would be Cherryh-like, with tensions building and weird cryptic events leading up to a quick flurry of stuff, almost over before you know it, and it's clear that what happens next is world-changing, but our guy only knows <i>that's</i> over and he still has to deal with the fallout from his tremendous error.
Need to walk dog before going to help paint signs for a peace vigil.
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MKK
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Anyway, have you tried pycnogenol or the cheaper grape seed extract? (I haven't tried GSE yet but it's supposed to be similar in chemicak structure to pycnogenol). They are both marketed as anti-oxidants, but the Japanese seem to be doing a lot of studies on pycnogenol and pain.
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