Thursday, November 17, 2005

sertraline, anyone?

The other day I was doing these online tests at WebMD, after I did some reading up on some pharmaceuticals that I prescribe to anyone who's sick (yes, prescribe, *then* read up on it). These were basically tests by leading antidepressant drug companies, and I was attracted to the little animated Zoloft mascot. These tests were simple 2-bit questionaires about whether you're having suididal thoughts, or if you've been exceptionally happy, or sad lately.

Problem was the questions were so generic, and the symptoms were so common in our society that eventually I answered 'Yes' to most of the stuff, for example 'Do you sometimes have violent tendencies of causing harm or injury to others?', which I thought hmm, if you drove on our roads long enough, of course!

And so I was diagnosed as Bipolar II. Which required treatment, of course. Sertraline HCl, or Zoloft would do the trick.

Almost at the same time I started playing Grand Theft Auto. After much hype about it, and of course my disappearance from the gaming world, I decided to see if it'll run on my pc, and it did. GTA is a game of organized crime, and its appeal lies in the fact that you are allowed unprecedented freedom in the game. You can run over people, shoot strangers, hijack cars, total the hijacked car, run into another car, run over another car, hijack a police vehicle, hijack a bus, total a bus, well, you get the idea, and that was just 15 minutes into the game. Best part was GTA doesn't need a prescription. So why the big fuss about being politically correct?

Monday, November 14, 2005

sleeping with eyes open

Sunlight trickles through the vertical spaces, forming symmetrical lines all over my desk. The clouds aptly shade the sun for a brief moment providing an illusion of cool when in fact the temperatures soar upwards of 30 in the outdoors. But I am unfazed in my climate controlled comfort zone of a constant 20.

Noise levels are kept to a minimum, construction has all but halted here as the workers regroup at the old place, working on the roof there instead. The dogs are quiet as well, with nothing interesting to see, nor bark about. Thus they lie motionless like bags of potatoes on a lazy day.

It feels like a Sunday, although everyday feels like it. Nothing changes if you're always in the same place doing the same thing, after a while you lose track of day, week, or month. Of course you can't possibly lose track of time since you have a watch, that would be dumb. Life still follows schedule, and the rushing is kept in check. If there are more things to rush, then perhaps it would feel like a Monday.

I just need to take a break even though it feels like I am having a break. I need to get out of here. This place. I need this place to be done once and for all so I dont have to deal with people. So I can just take off and be someplace else. I need to get to Sydney.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Solving a mystery

There was recently the mystery of the dropping sand. My sister had been complaining about the mysterious appearance of sand in her room recently, to which I had no idea. The attic where I'm staying is right above her room, separated by timber flooring which has begun to shrink thus forming hairline cracks in between the timbers.

But there is no sand up here in the first place. I thought long and hard, and the worst case scenario was that it was indeed being attacked by termites or some other pest. But then...termites do not usually attack hardwoods, especially since its only been a few months. That didn't make sense.

So I became my own CSI, gathering evidence. That sorta thing. I love that kinda work although I wouldn't work in a crime lab because I'd go bonkers. The dust compounds were sand, and fine sawdust, which I was afraid. But grains of sand? If borers attacked the timber they'd leave behind fine sawdust residue but that doesn't explain the sand which accounted for almost half of the dust.

Then it struck me. When they installed the flooring the lousy bastards filled up the cracks with ...sand and sawdust which was just scattered in heaps here. Now that the boards are beginning to shrink the grains that were used to fill up the grooves begin to fall underneath with no way to stop this process. There's only this much vacuuming you can do.

My theory is that the air-conditioner is cranked up so much so that the temperatures in here dropped so much that the timber started to shrink, thus causing this interesting phenomenon. Looks like I have to let go of my sub-zero sleeping habits until they cover it from the bottom. Mystery solved.