When You Give a Monkey Markers
I forgot to take my Zoloft last night and I've been sick all evening: dizzy, nauseous, the works. Like a hangover, but without any of the fun preceding the symptoms.
I'm thinking of tapering back my dosage. I'm sick of SSRIs. Sick of the occasional forgetting, sick of making monthly donations to the holy church of big pharma. I've been feeling stable lately; the EMDR has done wonders for my anxiety. Of course, tapering back the pills will require welcoming a similar malaise, a prolonged malaise, until I get past the withdraw. But it might be worth a try.
We celebrated my father-in-law's birthday today. My husband told me I couldn't buy a card from Hallmark because he'd already been there and hadn't found anything good. I took that as an excuse to spend an hour at the bookstore. It turns out our local Barnes & Noble only carries Hallmark cards--and he was right, none of them were funny--so to make the whole trip worthwhile I had to buy Color and Light by James Gurney and the journals of Keith Haring.
Before I read either one I have to finish rereading Picture This: The Nearsighted Monkey Book by Lynda Barry. I checked it out from the library last week. The four-year-old and I have been using it as a reference for our own nearsighted monkeys and other creatures.
Barry is a big advocate of copying as a learning tool, so I don't think she would mind.