*Insert platitude about time and aging here.*

I wish I had something wise about blogging and/or getting old to say, but I don’t really have anything. I am still struggling at being an adult, but luckily, thanks to the United States sucking at education and economic regulation, so are a lot of people my age.

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Here’s a thing that happened in my life: I recently spent 15 days in the psych ward at Bellevue Hospital. It was a largely boring experience, but I accomplished what I set out to do by checking myself in– which was 1. Get off the sleeping pills; 2. Get on some mood stabilizing meds; 3. start interacting with people again.

The combo of psychotropic drugs I’m on now is far from perfect. It feels like all the negative aspects of being stoned, minus the paranoia. I’ve been meaning to write a full entry or series of entries about the psych ward, but the David Sedaris-y part of my brain isn’t working very well (Lots of parts of my brain aren’t working very well.). And I don’t want to write about a heavy experience like that, unless I can put a lighthearted spin on it. It’s a coping mechanism or something like that. (Also, according to David Foster Wallace, Wittenstein said that the most serious things can only be talk about in the form of jokes, and I’m just pretentious enough to use that as an excuse.)

I’ll elaborate on the circumstances and happenings of the hospital stay later, maybe. Too retarded right now, like literally.

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I’m not quite sure how to end this entry. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged, everything moment over the keyboard mostly feels like a shadow of haunting self-guessing if my writing style is too boring or nonlinear or rambly or X. “Am I overusing dependent clauses?” Sigh.

I guess I’ll end it with a “too soon” .jpg of something significant that happened in the news: