My shrink thinks that EMDR (another link here may be useful for me. So, we’re going to play with it a bit since she has a colleague who is good at it.

It’s a bit frightening (hacking on the brain’s firmware seems like it could really trash things if done wrong) but also interesting. Certainly the kind of troubles I have resisted psychotherapy pretty darn well before and seem to be deeply rooted enough that something different is worth considering. I’ve got to the point where trepanning doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea.

Basically the theory is that my problems may well have resulted from some bullshit that occurred when I was preverbal and therefore aren’t necessarily accessible by verbal means. Sort of the psychotherapeutic equivalent of fixing the water pump when you have to remove the entire engine to get at it. Since removing the brain and running cold water through the spinal cord is not recommended, we’re going to try resetting the firmware.

If anyone sees me wandering about with a Borg apparatus on my head intoning “MUST.. DESTROY.. MANKIND.. BEFORE.. LUNCHTIME..” please shoot me.

How do I shot wasp?

Watch as mendel attempts to save various people from enwaspinating themselves to death.

One of the many problems with the Internet is that it has made it easier than ever for low-functioning individuals to encourage each others’ mistaken ideas.

Someone has discovered that corporate employees are often insane. Duh. I personally am only shooting for “grandiose narcissist” as a career goal but I always was a low achiever in hierarchies.

The BladeRunner World of Phone Games as revealed by acb. WTF.

I have tickets for Neko Case at the Derby saturday night and like.. 5 people have turned me down so far. I should just buy one ticket for things.

Feh. I was trying to give up self-pity for Lent, too!

If you go to court in Orange County, California, expect to be tried by fiftysomething consultants who are very active in their church group. The women will have big hair, all of them.

For bruisedhips: one of the prospective jurors was a woman whose job is writing study guides for pastors based on The Purpose-Driven Life and she and her husband lead weekend study groups about marriage for couples.

The woman sitting behind me in the “we might get picked for the Box” seats said “oh…. GOD!!!” every time anything at all happened.

The defendant was a slight, pinched-face young African-American man charged with domestic violence. He was obviously a member of the great American underclass: ambling, tilting gangsta walk, bad leather jacket for his good court day, hunted look.

One prospective juror successfully got out of service by overdoing his Vietnamese accent and not understanding anything at all, but was playing it way up. The judge was angry at him, and so were we. He’d been in this country 18 years and was a software developer; there’s no way he didn’t understand what was going on. His ching-chong-chinaman act was painful to watch.

I was impressed by the impression of honesty, forthrightness, and willingness to serve that just about everyone showed. It was pretty clear that the 13 people they ended up with would take this seriously and do their best. That’s what I would want, which ever side of the thing I was on.

my very favorite thing about the passion is how the glassy-eyed faithful pour out of the theatre swearing that “it’s just exactly how it happened.” um, yes. taking a satchel full of cash from his holocaust-denier father, unification physicist melvin gibson invented a time transporter, and utilizting a multiphasic transtemporal quantum singularity that conveniently stretched from under a present-day melbourne dingo to a sun-drenched golgotha villa on crucifixion day, gibson transported a cadre of unbiased nonunion filmmakers back through the ages to capture events as they happened, without any bias as to the facts, outcome or theological significance of same.

I saw a truck in the parking lot at court today, one of those big muscle trucks that all the meatheads have. It was tricked out, bla bla. Also it had one of those big blackletter font signs on the back that are the sign of a true Bro Guy with a sunglasses/skate/surf/snow “business”. The sign said:

CHRONIC INDUSTRIES

Beneath this was a bumpersticker that read:

If you’re headed the wrong way, remember God allows U-turns!

And it fired up the Google “feeling lucky” feature and I arrived here.

I guess that’s a pretty good default for the word “status”, eh?