Driving through downtown last night I could tell there was something going on by the number of shirtless males crossing between intersections. It reminded me of a first date I had during which I witnessed a man, high on PCP, strip down naked and roll from one side of the street to the other. But with less wang blowing in the wind. As I passed the bruhaha, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a cop blocking off Broadway.
In the elevator I met my new doctor. I'd gotten off on the wrong floor and as I hit the "close doors" button, because I dislike the waiting, someone called to me to hold the elevator. And I did and figured this was probably her.
I was more nervous than I thought I'd be, talking about myself. I haven't really done it in a long time. Hell, I haven't had a real conversation with anyone in a while. Not to say that just talking about me is a conversation. But honest, one-on-one dialogue with another human being that doesn't revolve around work or involve some sort of "how am I being perceived" aspect.
I told her about growing up being hard of hearing and how it affects my daily life to this day. I told her that I'm pretty sure I just drink now out of boredom. I told her that my only regret from my divorce is that I didn't take the action to end it and just let it happen. I told her a lot of things.
But what I was most vehement about were the benefits I experienced to taking medication. I mean, I have problems remembering things or maintaining my focus, but I'll be damned if I wasn't going to try and go all specific on what it was like to feel my head clear. And she wrote me a script. That was great. I felt like a drug-seeker, for a non-narcotic, and forced myself to restrain a smile.
I remember what it was like before the medicine. And I remember after. And who I am now is not the same as who I was before. The medicine allowed me to make changes that have impacted me tremendously. I don't feel great now and I know the medicine will help, but I have to wonder, how is it going to help this time?
I'm hoping for super-powers.
***
After that I went to the comic shop. I picked up Avengers: The Children's Crusade #5, because I didn't have that one yet, and Sulk #3 by Jeffrey Brown. I spent some time talking to the guy there, who I referenced in a previous post as wanting to talk to when the Comic Nerd interrupted us. He agrees with me that the impending DC reboot seems like a last ditch effort by DC to grab some of Marvel's market share and pointed out that there's more familiar faces popping up on the creative side of the reboot than I realized.
Then I dropped off my prescription, got a pizza lunch and went to see Transformers: Dark of the Moon. Which was terrible. Movie started at 5:30 and at 8:00 I was watching giant robots smashing around a city wondering what was the point and why isn't this movie over yet? It had the least story of any of the three and was less evocative for having less offensive material. There were two scenes that were cool, which isn't much for such a long-ass movie. Man, that sucked.
And that's all else I had to say. I didn't really need to go on past the doctor's visit, but I just wanted to complain about how bad that movie was. Oh, and the theater smelled. Smell-o-vision?
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