I haven’t quite decided whether to go out in a blaze of ‘Rab-fro glory, or start shaving my head, or just get one of those shameless ‘dos where balding failures lust let their body go crazy and wait until they have a fringe of reverse-smiley face on the back of their skulls, but the only way to find out would be to consult a hairstyling expert, which would involve me not being very lazy, so that’s not going to happen.
In other inevitable-ruin news, I am thinking of firing my mental health care professional. The first reason is that this mental health care professional wants to put me on drugs, which I am not entirely convinced I need. Of course, many people, possibly including my mental health care professional, might argue that my belief that it is not necessary to go on these drugs is simply further evidence that I should. I don’t know about that, but I do know that my mental health care professional does not seem to appreciate my admittedly non-mentally-healthy sense of humor, and my suggestion that I simply start smoking weed again, because it makes me feel really good, was not met with enthusiasm. A second thing is that my mental health care professional and I are not entirely in accord over the issue of which aspects of my personality are problems that need addressing and which are merely things about me that may not be considered by some people as problematic. Now, again, there are those who might say that this is merely evidence of how fucked up I am, and how I’m not really approaching this getting healthy thing with the right frame of mind, and I cannot really argue with anyone who might say such a thing. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. But speaking of arguing, I did that with my mental health care professional, and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be arguing with my mental health care professional. Finally, my mental health care professional is located on the grounds of a religious institution, and in order to get to my mental health care professional’s office, I have to walk under a huge archway decorated with a flag and a yellow ribbon and the slogan “GOD BLESS AND PROTECT OUR COALITION TROOPS”. I have considered bringing up in therapy that this makes me feel odd, but I don’t know what could be done about it. There are those who might say that keeping such a thing from my mental health care professional is yet more evidence of how I am sick and bad and am not approaching this whole therapy thing in the spirit in which it is intended, and to them I would say, again, I believe you are probably right, and I am doomed.
On the other hand, I do feel pretty good the last week or so. Damn you, complex causality!