I’m at the diametrically opposed state of mind as of the last post. After two hours of sleep, a moderate (5mg) dose of Ritalin about seven hours ago and a small (1mg) dose of clonazepam right now, I’m focused, sitting straight, eyes focused at the screen — I feel like a robot.
I’ve just been given strict deadlines to complete a strictly defined workload. There’s next to none creativity involved, so I should be able to complete it no matter how sharp my cognitive skills are at the moment.
Instead, even when at the ritalin zen ideal of being calm, emotionless, focused, I keep looking for complexity — I keep expanding the scope of the report I’m supposed to be writing.
Even at zen state, my brain seeks chaos.
I am not actually emotionless. I’m dazed and confused, somewhat depressed over my apparent incapacity to perform normal tasks, afraid of utter general failure in life. I also need to talk to someone over coffee. Coffee, not alcoholic drinks. But emotions don’t seem to surface. I’m calm and focused, as in that Radiohead song spoken by a voice synthetizer. Insulating outside noise with Einstürzende Neubauten’s “Silence is sexy” — the album. I’m fucked up big time as far a seric levels of medications go, and I need a plan to go back to pax seroquel and yet be able to use moderate amounts of ritalin to get this project done — or I’ll get fired.
The plan right now is to clonazepam myself out of hypomania — the fire within that seems to seek complexity and return tonight to the normal schedule. I’m hoping the anticonvulsant dose I missed caused the big disruption and I’ll be able to reach pax seroquel by tomorrow, and microregulate my mood/productivity on ritazepam.
Imagine this not as a frantic attempt to get out of an unpleasant state — it is actually quite interesting to feel the way I feel right now: pax neubauten, one could call it — but an attempt to calculate my way out of the chaos drive and into something that can get a report done.
As if there was a simple medication calculus. Biochemists can’t do it right. But in the mood I am right now, everything seems to be a matter of a calculus — the social calculus of arranging the social outlet I’m in dire need of, though I don’t really feel a dire need of socialization, and as a slightly malfunctioning robot I actually should be shut down and cleanse out during sleep.
The really confusing thing about all this is that this robot writing this post right now seems to have underlying emotions and free will, but can’t feel at the outside.
Since I haven’t strayed my eyes out of the screen during all the writing of this post, my hands seem made of plastic on my peripheral vision. Pax neubauten. If I only didn’t have to perform.
