I had dinner with Mama Frida on Tuesday. It was rather humorous, because we went to Pizza Hut and it turned out there was a young lady there she had to kick out of one of her properties . . . . In fact, not only was she there, she was our waitress. Mama Frida told me she had to kick her out because she hadn’t paid rent in two months. She went to the place, and it was filthy, so she moved all of her furniture and junk onto a pickup truck and then thoroughly cleaned the place . . . . The young lady got pretty angry. Man, was it awkward!
We talked about a lot of things, but mostly about my illness and how shoddy I consider the treatment I’m getting. It made me more determined to eventually get to Lexington and try to find a good Doctor and Therapist. I’m convinced I can still contribute something to society if given the chance. I know my family doesn’t have much confidence in me, so I will have to have confidence in myself . . . . I’m realizing more and more that I should have moved out of this dumpy apartment when the chance arose. Delbert’s leaving was the perfect opportunity, just as the lease was up . . . . But, it’s too late for that now. I feel like I should stick it out until August and then perhaps share a Townhouse with my Brother. I’m hoping that some of his good habits, diet, exercise, will rub off on me . . . . but then, this is just me repeating the same things to myself over and over again.
One of the afflictions that has been plaguing me terribly of late is a crushing sense of loneliness. With no roommate, there is nobody to talk to . . . . It is just me sitting by myself surrounded by messiness day and night. I feel like the only way I could be worse off is if I were imprisoned. I try to take my mind off of things with my usual distractions — movies and videogames — but as soon as I take a break, the oppressive feelings of solitude return & It’s like I have to drug myself with mindless entertainment just to tolerate my existence.
The evening is the worst time. With the darkness descending, and quiet falling over the neighborhood, I’m never more aware of how I’m alone . . . . I tried to go over to Grandma’s to alleviate this loneliness last night, but she wouldn’t have me. She said I’m coming over there too often. (I was there on Monday, too.) It’s not as though my Grandma is my concept of ideal company, but at least it’s another human being, you know? It’s not so much that I have to be constantly interacting with someone, when I lived with Delbert or my brother I was busy with my own hobbies most of the time . . . . but it was comforting just to know someone was there. I guess I’m beginning to experience the life most people only know when they become old and infirm . . . . if this life of boredom and emptiness is what old people have to endure, then I feel sorry for them!
It hasn’t helped that I have been watching the Densha Otoko television program from Japan. The show is about an anime and game otaku who comes out of his shell to find himself a girlfriend. He turns to the residents of a Japanese bulletin board for advice, and eventually works his way through his problems. The show is schmaltzy and over the top, but it has its moments. I just finished it last night, by watching the humorous “alternate ending,” and the extremely happy ending for such an indrawn nerd is what triggered my loneliness . . . . The real-life event took place on a Japanese bulletin board called “2-channel.” I’ve just now started to read the actual posts that the story was based on. The thing that struck me is how polite and helpful most of the contributors were — such a difference from the forums that I visit! Wherever I go on the Internet, its flames and insults . . . . I’m really growing tired of that kind of behavior in my old age. It’s like everyone online has to make themselves out to be something superior and macho wherever they go . . . .
In any case, I’ve become very dissatisfied with my circumstances of late. I blamed the lack of antidepressants for awhile, but I’ve recently gone back on them and still feel the same way. Strangely enough, my overall mood has improved since I went back on the medicine. Maybe it does accomplish something after all. In any case, I feel like I should be doing something productive with my time . . . . I’ve started reading another book about a victim of Schizophrenia. This book is obviously meant to appeal to women as it is subtitled A Daughter’s Journey or something like that. It’s about a daughter who has to try to help care for a Schizophrenic mother. Delbert made fun of me for even reading such a book . . . .
It’s well-written, but the perspective on Schizophrenia is of an observer, so the book doesn’t really contain the juicy tidbits I want to know about: delusions, hallucinations, alternate realities . . . . the kind of personalized experience each Schizophrenic has with their mental illness. The best book for that I have read thus far has been Welcome, Silence by Carol North . . . . it goes into quite a bit of detail, such that you wonder how a Schizophrenic could remember the delusions months after the fact. But it was entertaining . . . .
I’ve pared back my brain training regimen to just one Sudoku puzzle a day. Those brain training programs are so repetitive after awhile, I get sick of wasting my time on them . . . My brother says it isn’t any fun unless you’re competing for a high score with someone else. I guess he’s right. That, my book, and my Spanish lesson each day are the only productive things I usually manage to accomplish. At least I’m doing something besides raw self-indulgence all of the time . . . . I should probably try to do some computer work as well, learn Photoshop or Windows 2003 or something like that, so I could eventually offer something to an employer. But such things are so boring . . . .