A rant from a buddy at schizofriends. Thought it brought up a couple of valid points. I sort of get annoyed about those who deal with Mental Illness the same ways I get mad a anthropologists: why don't you take the word of those who *live* in the society or who are experiencing the *illness*? It wasn't until 1997 that someone decided to do testing after realizing that 80% of Mentally Ill smoke to do a test as to *why*. Duh: focus helps the brain receptors as they fire -- they feel clearer.
I found a pair of pants at Goodwill. They are striped, multicolored; I did not have to hem them but they didn't have the tell-tale signs of Capri pants -- the small slits at the bottom. I didn't bother trying them on, but I got them home and they fit fine. They are comfortable and make me feel good. I call them my Magic Pants. The only pair I own that make me smile, if clothing makes one smile.
I am wearing them now. I have plans to go bowling with the UPS group. Eric called and asked if I wanted to go out to eat. I reminded him that I had plans (he doesn't always remember). I felt a pang and wanted to just go home rather than endure being social. Even with my Magic Pants -- even when I feel good -- it doesn't take much to send me into "why am I even here"-Land. I'll go, though. And I'll try to have fun. My hair has been tamed. I'm wearing earrings that bringing_light made. I got my Magic Pants. I have a nice leather jacket that's not warm enough but looks nice. Hopefuly amoraj and twink_q will be there. I have the knowledge that not many people die bowling. And, as Arnie says, "I can go at any time!"