Posted by: comfortjunkie | September 9, 2008

This is your brain off drugs.

Yesterday I was woozy and tired, the effects not being unlike getting your “sea legs” on a boat. I’m a little off-balance. It was pretty much gone in the afternoon leading me to think that perhaps this wouldn’t be the long haul I’d buckled myself in for. So much for optimism. Today was a particularly bad day.

I barely managed to scrape myself through until 2pm when I finally collapsed in my bed for a dizzying sleep marred by weird corporate dreams. In the dream I was in a high rise office building overlooking the airport in some unknown city. I was going from meeting to meeting discussing the various things they needed me to do; crisis management in the case of a Venezuelan girl, a rape victim who’s identity had been profiled online (not sure where this came from), website copy, brochures, advertising. Even in the dream I was mixing up clients and meetings. I do know that at one point I suggested applying a decal to the entire top half of the building that was a plane. This way while people were taxiing around and landing, etc… they would see a giant plane swooping in on them. I have no idea what client I was planning this for but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

So two hours later, I have dragged myself out of bed and still feel exhausted and weird. Sigh. What keeps me going is knowing that before the robbery, I was med free and perfectly normal (for me anyway) and that without the drugs, I’m no more or less crazy than I normally am. The truth is that us creative types are just born nuts. My uncle, who was the most incredible and amazing artist, certainly had his eccentricities. Stephen King is not what I would call “normal.” There’s a whole host of very famous artistic people who have either been diagnosed with or suspected of having various mental disorders from being bipolar to plain old depression. Creatives are more paranoid, eccentric, and phobic than other people. Our brains are wired differently and I think that’s where the talent comes from.

After I emailed the zoo, I started flashing back to various When Animals Attack videos that show reporters being attacked by animals as they sat near them with their mics and cameras. TV reporters mauled by bears and tigers, slapped by monkeys and so on. It occurred to me that this was very likely to happen to someone like me, a person to whom weird things happen to all of the time. THEN I thought, well I supposed once the reconstructive surgery is done and the swelling has gone down, you might as well OWN it. When people approach me in the street or in a coffee shop and asked what happened to me, I’ll be able to gesture to my puckered and red scars with my stump and say, “A tiger! I was mauled by a tiger! Let this be a lesson to you, don’t sit with tigers for publicity head shots!” And I’m sorry to all of the thresher and tractor disfigurement victims, but my being half eaten by a tiger trumps whatever story you have even if you did drive to the hospital with your arm in your lap. It’s not that I’m hoping to get mauled by a tiger, but if you are going to spend the rest of your life with a horrible disfigurement, really, a tiger is the best you can hope for.

I am also hoping that at least one of the people who keeps googling Jeremy Piven to get to this site is Mr. Piven himself, who will then be won over by my coquettish and charming nature. He will then be forced to hire a private investigator to find out who this minx-like wordsmith is in order to sweep me off my feet with a proposal of marriage. It’s either that or when I get my energy back, I’ll have to find a way to stalk him from here. I’m not moving to LA (unless he asks nicely). Look at that, I’m even a slacker when it comes to stalking. Man, I’m really losing my game.

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