The wonders of drugs! Pt 2 - the reasons for drugs!

So, I've been on the Wellbutrin generic since last November and for the most part it was working really well. Smoking habit disappeared overnight, mood was balanced, and I felt more motivated.

Here's the thing. I went back on the medication because of a woman. Not because she asked me to. Because she DROVE me to. I really hate to admit that, but it's true.  There was a woman, who I was just so crazy about (hah!), but the stress was driving me to self-medicate. Smoking, drinking most nights, I was a couple steps away from functional alcoholism. The stress. I felt such a powerful thing for her, but it wasn't mutual.

Yeah.

I'd been seeing her off and on for almost a year. She'd already explained that she didn't see us getting serious, but we kept seeing each other anyway. But that had changed the boundaries. I went out of town for a convention and hooked up with an old friend, who sold me a piece of jewelry to give the woman back home. The friend knew about her, but the woman back home never found this out. I was, foolishly, holding on to the hope that I could change her mind about us. But then we were at a goth club, invited seperately, didn't know if the other was gonna be there. I tried to coordinate so we could go together, but she wasn't answering. And she met a guy there, somebody who she'd had a thing for a year ago, and they left together.

I had no moral high ground to judge, and she apologized right away begging me not to hate her, but that hurt me. That hurt me a lot. I stopped talking to her for a while. And THAT'S when the self-medicating began.

The woman and I kept running into each other at cons, slowly started talking again. For my part I was trying to be friends again. I suspect for her, she never thought anything had changed. We addressed that night somewhat, as much as was comfortable. But the damage was done, and I lost a sense of trust and comfort from her. I tried seeing other people, even slept with a couple other women, though that went nowhere. Then we were at another con in November, and ended up spending an entire evening together, talking, having drinks, enjoying each other's company. And she explained, I don't know why, how she had spent every night since that night at the club working, no social life of her own. I guess that was to let me know she was available. We unofficially started seeing each other again after that, but I was still self-medicating. That's when I decided to go back on actual medication.

There was another reason to that, actually. When she told me that we couldn't get serious, the main reason she cited was she was afraid that her own psychiatric issues and mine would feed off each other, amplifying and making it worse. She was right. Damn her, she was right. I don't know whether they made her mental state any worse, but mine had been severely aggravated. Taking medication seemed a way to counter that argument.

Since then, well, she still spent most nights working. Getting together was hard to schedule, but when it worked it worked really fucking well. I didn't see her nearly enough for my part, but she never told me to stop trying. And it's not as though there were any better, saner alternatives. The thing about dating within your geeky community, most of the single girls are single because they're crazy. This woman, for all her issues, was the least crazy. Let THAT sink in. As for where we are now, it's been months since we last got together. In this on-again/off-again masochism tango, it seems we're currently off. There's a conversation coming on the horizon, one I've been dreading for a while, but necessary nonetheless.

Where was I going with this? Well, with no real improvement in things, I'm unsatisfied. And that's raising my stress, and aggravating my issues, and the medication is losing its efficacy. Not drinking as much, but picking up a cigarette a little more often. And on top of things, it's now harder for me to open up. I don't know whether there is a stronger dosage available. Questions to pose to my doc.

On a side note, the goth club in question closed down. I'd spent many a night wishing it had burned down, so it would never remind me of that humiliating and painful night. But closing and being replaced with a gay dance club? Eh, close enough.

The Lazy (Kitty) Song

I hate you, Bruno Mars. I hate your music, your lyrics, and that ridiculous pompadour.

BUT. The Lazy Song pretty much encapsulates my cat, every goddamn day...and suddenly I'm writing FILK. Please somebody kill me.

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just wanna lay on your bed

Don't feel like moving from your spot

You left it comfy, nice and hot

'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything.

Meow!

I'm gonna roll on my back

Put my paws in the air

waive 'em around like I just don't care

No human's gonna tell me I can't

I'll be lounging on the couch,

leaving hair everywhere

cleaning off my paws, sniffing smells in the air

'Cause I'm indoors and still wanna kill!

Oh, yes I said it

I meant it

I'll stalk and eat my fill!

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just wanna lay on your bed

Don't feel like moving from your spot

You left it comfy, nice and hot

'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything.

Nothing at all!

Meow, meowmow, Meow meowmow

Nothing at all

Meow, meowmow, Meow meowmow

Tomorrow I'll wake up and hop on the bed

Get up in the human's face, see if he's dead

And if he is I'll eat him for brunch (oh so yummy this brunch!)

Yeah

I might sneak around, hang out near the door

Try to slip out and explore some more

Then the human opens a can full of lunch

Meowmeow

Oh, yes I said it

I meant it

I'll stay and eat my fill!

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just wanna lay on your bed

Don't feel like moving from your spot

You left it comfy, nice and hot

'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything.

No, I ain't gonna clean my fur

And I ain't gonna even purr

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

I'll just strut like I own the place

And flick my tail all in your face

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Meow

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just wanna lay on your bed

Don't feel like moving from your spot

You left it comfy, nice and hot

'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything.

Nothing at all

Nothing at all

Nothing at all 

*Sigh* I hang my head in shame. Ah well, back to that short story about a funeral...

The wonders of drugs!

It's not much of a secret that I have social anxiety disorder, and a mild case of depression (according to the DSMV IV it's not Major Depression because the symptoms don't last as long as two weeks). It makes parties a hi-LAR-ious time! I've sought treatment for it in the past. It's been a long time since I last took medication, about three, four years now? I had to stop because of my insurance coverage changing, and the name-brand costs went straight the fuck up. The name-brand was the only effective drug for my depression and anxiety, otherwise I'd have used the generics from the start.

By the time this happened, I was receiving better results from talking with my counselor, and it felt like the Wellbutrin was losing its effectiveness. I thought I could handle my shit with counseling alone, and for a while I was. But then we lost touch when my counselor moved offices, and admittedly I didn't go to extraordinary lengths to resume the session, feeling that lately there wasn't any progress being made.

Yeah, I was a fucking genius.

Last month I decided to resume taking medication. The coverage issue had not changed, name brand scripts are still overpriced, so I asked my doctor instead to prescribe the generic for it, Bupropion. It took me a few more weeks to work up the nerve to finally open the pill bottle. That was Sunday night.

I'm told that it takes a couple weeks for Wellbutrin to show its effectiveness when you start taking it. Honestly though, there's already been noticeable affects, even only a couple days after taking it. I started writing much more frequently, updating the movie blog almost daily when before it maybe a couple times a month. I had a nervous tic, plucking hairs, and it became much less frequent in occurance. Fantastic.  I feel as though the intensity range of my mood has narrowed. I feel more balanced and in control of myself.
I don't feel like a new man, though. I don't feel a dullness in my thoughts, or a loss in sex drive. I just feel alright. Let's see where this goes.

God is apparently my co-pilot now...

...because my movie co-contributor has been raptured! Wawawa waaaaaaah!

Ok, not raptured, just busy training in a new job... new boyfriend... new direction in her life... suffice to say I'm anticipating a long hiatus while she adjusts. It's a good thing she added me as a contributer to the review blog, seeing as it's hers, otherwise it'd probably gather dust till it was finally deleted.

She's also the only one following THIS blog (hi Kat *waives*), so one would probably ask why am I talking about this in this fashion instead of to her? Because she's busy. I don't feel neglected, or abandoned, or distant or anything. That's just silly.  No, she's just busy getting her ducks in a row. And it's cool, I'm keeping the theater seats warm. It gives me something to focus on, keep me thinking and creating, so everybody wins.

Dragoncon - You Will (Not) Understand

© Copyright 2012/2013 DCI, Inc

It was as though I’d come home.

That’s what it felt like the first time I stepped into the lobby of the Hyatt Regency at Peachtree Center that Labor Day weekend of 2002. It’s really been over ten years? Sure didn't feel like it.

It was a Thursday, before the convention actually began. Early arrivers like me were trundling in through the glass revolving door, carts stacked five deep with luggage and delicate outfits on hangers sharing space with Igloos and cardboard boxes full of Irish whiskey and dark rum. There were families sitting down for their first meal after a long drive to Atlanta, overpriced buffet notwithstanding. Lanky high schoolers already populated the second floor balcony outside the con Hospitality Suite, waiting for the chance to fill up on free munchies, watching us all with the weird mix of envy and disdain common among teenagers. And there were cosplayers, fully kitted and posing for pictures, strutting about as though the lobby were one big runway.

A typical Thursday in the Hyatt lobby.

Dragoncon has been going on for decades now, having celebrated its 25^th anniversary in 2011, drawing thousands of fans from around the world into the humid, sweaty and sometimes rainy heart of Atlanta. Where by day the pulse is the thousand footfalls of the official costume parade and the zombie walk, and by night it's the heavy thud of the speakers from the Cruxshadows concerts and the drum circles.  The locals occupying that one square mile of downtown Atlanta loved every year of it. It's not unusual to them, seeing their customers wearing full ‘trooper armor, Cobra uniforms, or dressed as Spike Spiegal and Red Sonja. And the majority of them, well behaved and generous with the drink orders, who could complain about that? Hell, even some of the hotel staff, at least in the Hyatt, broke out their Halloween wear and dressed up for the occasion.

Oh you poor dumb kid, you have no idea what's ahead...

I was still a little wet behind the ears when it came to conventions. I’d been to smaller cons in the East, including Gateway Con (St. Louis), Exoticon (New Orleans), and Fantasm (also in Atlanta). But Dragoncon was my first major, massively attended comic book and sci-fi convention. Attendance in the previous conventions numbered in the hundreds, maybe approaching one thousand. But this … this affair was over 30,000 geeks, freaks, and nerds, ten percent of which were right in front of me that afternoon in one hotel alone. It was nearly overwhelming.

And I’d come alone.

But that didn't bother me (much). Flying solo, that was my S.O.P. and I was used to it. It'd be fantastic to have company, but if I waited around for someone to say “count me in,” I’d never go anywhere. And none of my friends back home were into this kind of outing, not all the way across the country. They didn't see the point of going to all that trouble and expense when I could play games or drink while staying in town. They just didn't understand.

Another spontaneous drum & bagpipe circle emerges.

And at first I tried to explain why I kept going nearly every year. I'd tell them about the adventure, the stories I brought back of who I saw and what I did, because I was excited and it was great to share it. I may as well have been describing socks given me for Christmas. They listened, but it was out of politeness. The only question they ever asked was whether I got laid while I was there. And when I told them no, and that wasn't why I went, they'd say "oh," and then start talking about their job or dating woes or a new restaurant. After a few years, it finally dawned on me that it was no use. "Oh I had a blast," was all I would share, and then change the subject. And why not? They didn't understand. I (don't) think they tried.

Smiles, everyone, smiles! See, Venom's got it!

Perhaps you’ve heard this all before, from countless events. The names may change: Chicago Comic Con, Phoenix Comic Con, the big wahooni in San Diego. Or even thinking about how it all rates against events like Gencon, or Pennsic, or E3. But you must be thinking, it’s just another big con. You’re thinking, maybe someday when I’ve won the lottery I will check it out. You’re thinking, yeah, I’ve seen and done crazier. You’re thinking, going all the way to Georgia when there’s parties and little cons to be found right here? Not worth the expense.  You can think all of this, but you don’t know. You're not there. No one knows what it's really like, you have to see it for yourself. You have to take the red pill.

Emerald Rose performing during the day. Big crowd, man.

And I’ll be the first to tell you that the red pill is a goddamned undertaking. Those of you thinking about cost are right to think twice. Just getting there is not cheap. The airfare from Phoenix to Atlanta can range as high as $400, but can also be lower than $200 during fare sales. The Delta Airlines hub in Atlanta makes these fares frequent and reasonable. Hotel rooms can approach $200 a night before tax, and unless you have roommates, the effect on your Visa bill is going to be like dropping a cinderblock on your foot. That’s assuming you nail down that reservation, some hotels requiring the first night as a deposit. The competition begins the morning that the room blocks open. Then there’s the badge itself, where the cheapest you can get is right after the last convention, for 2013 it starts at $85. However, if you buy your badge early and find yourself unable to attend, the convention does have an exchange process where you can sell it to another attendee so you won’t be out all of the money.

The good news, however small, is that once you arrive, reaching Dragoncon is the easy part. Atlanta has a light rail called MARTA that runs from the airport directly to the Peachtree Center, so you can walk up escalators and stairs directly to the hotels. Yes, we all scream “THIS! IS! MARTA!!!”

 

"No, YOU shall not pass without an interview!"

Dragoncon really does have a little something for everyone. (You can go down the rabbit hole yourself at www.Dragoncon.org, or check out a brilliant PBS documentary called “Four Days at Dragoncon” either on your local station or at video.pba.org/video/2065738625) Yes, there’s a vast amount of gaming. Yes, there are two floors of merchant tables and demos. There are panel tracks covering everything from comic books, literature and Firefly to wrestling, hard science and robot battles. There are concerts going on all day and well into the night by performers like Voltaire, Mark Gunn, the Brobdingan Bards and The Cruxshadows. There was even a panel about homebrewing beer with samples given to the audience. What a great panel; the first time I found it, I sat next to an adorable pixie from Maryland who wound up hanging out with me all the following night.  (Never heard from her after that. A shame, really ... but that’s con. Sometimes you make a longtime connection, and sometimes it lasts only until sunrise. Enjoy the time; you never know how much you have.)

These guys were more popular than the movie.

Like many cons, themed parties are held in the ballrooms at night, and they are spectacular. Steampunk dances, Battlestar Galactica meetups, and Browncoat shindigs pepper the agenda, along with various raves. Not to be outdone, plenty of attendees will bring their own fun, hosting room parties themed by whatever they haven’t done in the past five years or so.  Some parties are invite only, some parties are jam-packed with people (and not always in a fun way), but you will find the most amazing people. I made a lot of friends at the parties, some of whom came just for the parties and completely skipping panels and gaming. I knew someone who hosted a “Cookies & Punch Social” social for all her friends on opening afternoon every year, where the punch was based on whiskey sours or hurricanes and little rubber duckies were everywhere. A Southeast party crew by the name of Con*tourage hosted parties that you could only secure admittance to with a password from their message board … and by the power of GREYSKULL, the things they did to their hotel suite make me question whether they ever got back a deposit.

"Yes it's cold, TAKE THE PICTURE."

The weather in Atlanta, when it's hot, it's muggy and cannot be ignored, even with skybridges linking the three main hotels. And sometimes, at night when the rain is coming, the wind blows fucking cold. And sooner or later, you will have to step outside. Whether it's the smoking patio, or walking beyond the main hotels for smaller panels or gaming or just to grab a beer at any of the Peachtree restaurants and bars, it can't be avoided. It's the South, you gotta expect that. And the crowds, you will believe that all 30-40,000 attendees are right on top of you between panels. The foot traffic can get so thick, the fire marshall switches from civil servant to shadowy bogeyman, threatening to shut it all down if the pathways aren't cleared in case of emergencies. The crowds will make one yearn for their nice air-conditioned hotel room, where you can watch the popular panels on “Dragon*Con TV,”  broadcast on the hotel closed circuit TV along with original material in the form of "bumpers."  They're on YouTube, check 'em out.

The red pill is not to be taken lightly. But worth it? Fuck yeah.

Fans, you just can't escape 'em.

Oh, I know you have stories of your own. Where you’ve been to a con, thrown parties with your buddies, gotten shit-faced in good company that poured you back into your room, then laugh about it the next morning, seen and done things far outside your comfort zone. But not like this. Do you understand what I'm (not) saying?

For as long as I’ve been going to cons, fandom has been an welcoming, accepting community. It’s why I’ve found fan groups to join, to recapture that feeling of somewhere I belong. But nowhere else have I ever had an experience like Dragon*Con. I've literally stumbled into parties there, where I was only let in thanks to new friends I’d just met that afternoon. Where I watched a private demo of a violet wand on a sub’s piercings before I understood anything about the lifestyle. Where I could sit on the patio at ten in the morning before the reg desk opens, toasting to the weekend with complete strangers sipping quality whiskey from flasks and dollar bottles we were all carrying. Ten in the fucking morning. Where for a few days all 30,000 of you are compadres.

A room party photo without flash, better than pixelating!

It’s not only what I found there, it’s what I took away. If not for Dragon*Con, I’d never have sought out fan groups in search of that same sense of belonging and fun at home that I’d found in Atlanta. I’d never have travelled through the Southeast enjoying the hospitality and history. I've have never made all the friends I have now, never learned a few new things like how mead and beer are brewed, or how to sew and costume. I’d have never even met my movie co-reviewer Kat, living all the way in Tennessee, knows me better than anyone, and has my back even when I’m being shtoopid. I would never have come out of my shell.

That’s what I tried to explain, why I wanted to bring more people to this mad event. And once or twice, I even succeeded. An adventure is better when it can be shared. But the majority of everyone I told about this con would give me that same look of polite attentiveness, and ask me that same question, whether I got laid. As if that was the entire point of my trip. And suddenly, for the briefest of moments I felt very, very alone. You (don't) know what that's like.

You see, it isn’t the size of Dragon*Con that makes it special. It’s not the width, breadth and depth of the activities pumping at all hours. It’s not the location, that’s for sure. It’s all of that together, all bound together with that feeling of community, of belonging. It all comes together as this enormous, fantastic second life where you feel that for one long weekend, you’ve come well and truly home. Where even if they don’t know your name, even if they won’t remember, they’ll ask and shake your hand because they’re glad to see you. That’s fantastic.

That’s why I’ll go back. I’ll always go back. Even if I do it alone again, because once I’m there, once I feel the tiles of the Hyatt lobby and the buzz in the air, I can close my eyes and believe I’m where I belong. That I’m not alone. That I will never, ever be alone.

That’s Dragon*Con.  You will (not) understand.

Photo credits: Dragon*Con logo and banner are copyright and property of DCI, Inc. All other photos shown, source and author: David Ramirez

Zombie Plan #1- RUN AWAAAAAAY!!!

So you've woken up to a zombie apocalypse...

THE PLAN:
 Shock, horror, life as you know it is over. This is the hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. In short, every man for himself!!!

First thing's first, grab your baseball bat, every easily portable and edible foodstuff out of the kitchen, every antibiotic and meds and bandage in your bathroom, and toilet paper because that'll be friggin' GOLD during the apocalypse, grab the laptop bag and phone charger just in case there's electicity and a network to connect to. Strap it all on, then bolt for the car! The house isn't safe, there's too many windows to make it defensible, and not enough wood to barricade the place nor enough of a stockpile to outlast the undead siege. Nobody's coming to the rescue, everyone you know is either already en route to their safe haven, too far away, or among the undead horde. Forget saving the pets, and don't bother with the family. You. Are. Alone. (no change there, mate)

So you've got a couple bags, a bat, and keys. Zombies staggering around outside, but not in the backyard because it's fenced in completely, and maybe they haven't noticed the free meal inside frantically throwing everything together. So the plan is to sneak out the back door, leave it open so the pets will have a chance, sneak around to the backyard gate and then clobber every friggin' zed head the twenty feet between the gate to the car. Run, get in (thank you keyless entry) and hightail it as far as the car will take you, north away from everything that could kill and eat you! Great plan!

WHY THIS WILL FAIL BADLY:
Ok, you're fleeing away from the city? That means hitting the freeway, and unfortunately everyone else and their mom had the same idea. Traffic congestion, breakdowns, honking and short tempers, and then there's all the zombies, all up on the freeway waiting for you! And that's only if  you make it to the freeway, the city streets are going to be a lovely little stretch of hellscape of wrecks, cop cars, roving bandits, and even more zombies! You'll be lucky to get halfway to the interchange before enough obstacles halt your progress or send you careening into a really bad time.

ESTIMATED LIFESPAN: One hour at best.

I am so fucked.

Getting Lost

There's this little bar in downtown Phoenix called Lost Leaf, a brick and wood establishment with low lighting, live music and a diverse selection of beer & wine to be had. The bar is a repurposed house in the Roosevelt district, which is pretty well known in the Phoenix area for its "First Friday" block party every month. It gets pretty damn packed on those nights, or any weekend really, but I prefer the weekdays. In the early evenings it's quiet, low traffic, and overall the crowd is pretty easy going and friendly. You can strike up a conversation with ease, inside at the bar with the bartender, or outside on the smoking patio if you're so inclined. Fact is, half the time there's nobody smoking on the patio, just reading or talking when the weather is mild enough. Lost Leaf is a great place to hang out, read a book, or check email on the wi-fi, over some good brews. And it's a terrific place to get some writing done. No TVs playing sports to distract, instead there's walls adorned with local artists' work that stimulates and inspires without pulling you away from what needs doing. No sports fans yelling at the TV about the ref being blind and deaf. No godawful karaoke being belted out because somebody saw too much "Glee." No poker tournaments dominating every flat surface in the place for hours and hours. And the ambient music playing is the bartender's choice streaming from satellite or from Pandora, and they have a decent taste in music, no Top 40s lists here. It's like the anti-bar, and I like going there. This is a safe place, my own sanctum from bad days.

It's the best little bar that I will never, ever bring anybody to.

This is terrible to admit, but there are times that the last thing I want to see is a familiar face. When you're fighting with friends, when they're into stuff that just bugs the shit out of you but it would be rude to say, or when there's a conversation you're just not ready to have, you want to be someplace you can rest assured you won't run into them. And they don't come here. If they do, it's not while I'm here. And that goes for anyone I'm dating, I wouldn't bring them here either. Relationships end, and if they take a liking to your haunts, and you bump into them after all the tears, screaming and waking up again in an unfamiliar hospital room, then what? And gods help you if they bring their new boyfriend with them here, now that's a sight I don't ever want to see again. When I come here, it's because I don't want the outside world to find me, and I'm sorry, but friends and such are part of that.

There's plenty of other places for me to rejoin my band of freaks, geeks and weirdos for fun times. But let me finish my beer, I'll be ready for real life in just a sec.