I understand that not everyone will want to check out the whole tune. It's a big fave, though. I am glad ABB picked it up (maybe even do a better version).
Lately it has become quite trendy to suffer from a low-grade depression and receive meds and counselling. The efficacy of the counselling is directly related to how much medical coverage your company provides on your behalf.
The theory is that the meds fight the depression, and the counsellor helps you feel better about you, usually in 6 or 12 appointments, then you're fine.
NEXT PATIENT PLEASE!
You get to carry on being a slave to [insert choice here: state, employment, mortgage, car payments, TV and furniture payments (you bad couple-gave in huh!) bad marriage with children etc, etc etc.].
That is the theory and I am sure it is a good one. It looked great on paper when some bozo handed in her/his doctoral research years ago and it all got published into the medical journals,
A star was born. Mental health issues that can be quantified. The state can appear to be treating people for this issue. The treatments are cheap and look great on the government ledgers. The global pharmaceutical cabal makes obscene amounts of money. Everybody is happy.
Whether people ever actually get cured is irrelevant.
That the process appears to work for many afflicted people is wonderful. Do not misunderstand my general tone of cynicism. People feel that the process works and they carry on with their little lives. I applaud those success stories.
Sidebar:
You will find shelves upon shelves at various medical universities to illustrate that people do get cured. That work would be and continues to be funded by global pharmaceutical concerns, the government, and indirectly by the banks.
There are others, though, others for whom a simple course of SSRIs and a professional pat on the bum, metaphorically or otherwise, does not work.
I repeat the ugly truth A SIMPLE COURSE OF SSRIs AND A PAT ON THE BUM DOES NOT WORK.
These people suffer fom multiple disorders and require different meds for different purposes. I can speak with authority about me; I am Bi-Polor II, PTSD, and major depressive, apparently at least one incident makes a major depressive (I think my incident is like the Bizarro World energy bunny, just keeps going). BP II means I cycle slowly, usually over weeks. The average BP I makes even me crazy. Some cycle every 5 minutes,
I take a cocktail of medications every day, twice a day, to control the presenting disorders with which I live. Epival is an anti-convulsant which seems to have had some success controlling BP. Perhaps so, I no longer grind my teeth 24/7 (though most the grinders have been pulled by now). For the most part I do not snap at people irrationally. That can be difficult because the moron count is definitely on the rise. People can stand to be around me for short periods of time without feeling nervous. Did I mention the other tiny detail regarding epival?It has utterly destroyed my libido.
Finally, I take double the recommended dosage for epival.
Wellbutrin and cipralex are suppose to make me feel less like committing suicide. The wellbutrin is suppose to make me feel less like smoking too. Right. I should think the paragraph above would be sufficient ground alone to make most people want to do themselves (that's a JOKE son . . .). However, if we take these two pills, 'voila!' all signs of depression will vanish within weeks, Pretty long damn weeks from where I am sitting, given that I am still waiting.
Let's get the 411 from The Weather Channel, "Well, Dave, thanks so much for inviting the Weather Channel into your cyber-reality. Unfortunately, as you can see on the Weather Channel regional map a strong depression has settled in over the Guelph, Kitchener, Cambridge area and is showing no signs of moving along. The Weather Channel forecast is for precipitation and grey skies as far as the eye can see. No change for in the immediate future. Sorry about that Dave"
Ever notice how they get the name of their product in every 30 seconds? It sticks like dogshit in the grooves of your sneaker soles when they do that. This I learned from an MBA back in the day.
Back to the medication rundown:
I receive no medication that I am aware of for my post-traumatic-stress-disorder. My guess is that there is no tidy panacea for PTSD (quick someone call the Weather Channel). Whether it was a car accident yesterday, the death of a loved one ten years ago, or regular and methodical physical, mental, and/or sexual abuse at the hands of a grownup you trusted when you were a child, no one seems to know what to about PTSD yet. They just give you more drugs if you act out in public. Especially if you act out in public, sometimes even if you do not act out in public they give you more drugs.
There are groups for PTSD. You can sit in a circle and describe what you remember about your experieces, tracing your mediocre little life forward from the incident till now. That never worked for me. People whine and you are expected to make sympathetic cooing noises when they finish, Whatever. If you are being completely honest with yourself, no one else's problems ever seem as bad as yours. If they do have bigger problems you don't want to know about because it just makes you feel worse.
I did not believe in group therapy when I was doing my MSW at Laurier why start now?
I still haven't found an individual counselor or psychologist (don't get me started about psychologists) who have anything in their CBM trick bag ("Papa's got a brand new behavioural bag!") that can even scratch the hood of a 1959 Cadillac silently sneaking up behind you in the dark. That's what PTSD feels like sometimes, a huge black car lurking in the shadows down some filthy midnight alley. You stare out into the street but you know there is something coming slowly back there. It makes you shit yourself with fright when the big driver sparks up a butt at the wheel. Somehow the bumper ended up right behind you almost touching your jeans. How the fuck did that happen? You are still shaking for hours after the event and you grind on it for days.
Sidebar in closing:
I would not be doing photography again were it not for the serious breakdown I experienced +4 years ago. I know this is fact. I use the limited energy I have every day to do something positive and creative. This is miraculous! I don't really believe that. The epival insures that I don't really feel much about anything. It really is a miracle though, in spite of my innate cynicism.
However . . .
It would seem even miracles have a grubby interior.
There are people who worry that the faces I photograph become trophies without much meaning to me or anyone else. Spoken like a true nature lover, one who shoots trees because making pictures of people puts them outside their comfort zone. We'll leave that discussion aside for now. Trophy also implies stalking or hunting my prey--such a strange choice of metaphor.
I make images of the people I photograph on the street because I like and respect most of them.
Street people are nice people. We talk a bit, I get to know some of their circumstances when possible and I make the image with their willing participation.
The theory is that the meds fight the depression, and the counsellor helps you feel better about you, usually in 6 or 12 appointments, then you're fine.
NEXT PATIENT PLEASE!
You get to carry on being a slave to [insert choice here: state, employment, mortgage, car payments, TV and furniture payments (you bad couple-gave in huh!) bad marriage with children etc, etc etc.].
That is the theory and I am sure it is a good one. It looked great on paper when some bozo handed in her/his doctoral research years ago and it all got published into the medical journals,
A star was born. Mental health issues that can be quantified. The state can appear to be treating people for this issue. The treatments are cheap and look great on the government ledgers. The global pharmaceutical cabal makes obscene amounts of money. Everybody is happy.
Whether people ever actually get cured is irrelevant.
That the process appears to work for many afflicted people is wonderful. Do not misunderstand my general tone of cynicism. People feel that the process works and they carry on with their little lives. I applaud those success stories.
Sidebar:
You will find shelves upon shelves at various medical universities to illustrate that people do get cured. That work would be and continues to be funded by global pharmaceutical concerns, the government, and indirectly by the banks.
There are others, though, others for whom a simple course of SSRIs and a professional pat on the bum, metaphorically or otherwise, does not work.
I repeat the ugly truth A SIMPLE COURSE OF SSRIs AND A PAT ON THE BUM DOES NOT WORK.
These people suffer fom multiple disorders and require different meds for different purposes. I can speak with authority about me; I am Bi-Polor II, PTSD, and major depressive, apparently at least one incident makes a major depressive (I think my incident is like the Bizarro World energy bunny, just keeps going). BP II means I cycle slowly, usually over weeks. The average BP I makes even me crazy. Some cycle every 5 minutes,
I take a cocktail of medications every day, twice a day, to control the presenting disorders with which I live. Epival is an anti-convulsant which seems to have had some success controlling BP. Perhaps so, I no longer grind my teeth 24/7 (though most the grinders have been pulled by now). For the most part I do not snap at people irrationally. That can be difficult because the moron count is definitely on the rise. People can stand to be around me for short periods of time without feeling nervous. Did I mention the other tiny detail regarding epival?It has utterly destroyed my libido.
Finally, I take double the recommended dosage for epival.
Wellbutrin and cipralex are suppose to make me feel less like committing suicide. The wellbutrin is suppose to make me feel less like smoking too. Right. I should think the paragraph above would be sufficient ground alone to make most people want to do themselves (that's a JOKE son . . .). However, if we take these two pills, 'voila!' all signs of depression will vanish within weeks, Pretty long damn weeks from where I am sitting, given that I am still waiting.
Let's get the 411 from The Weather Channel, "Well, Dave, thanks so much for inviting the Weather Channel into your cyber-reality. Unfortunately, as you can see on the Weather Channel regional map a strong depression has settled in over the Guelph, Kitchener, Cambridge area and is showing no signs of moving along. The Weather Channel forecast is for precipitation and grey skies as far as the eye can see. No change for in the immediate future. Sorry about that Dave"
Ever notice how they get the name of their product in every 30 seconds? It sticks like dogshit in the grooves of your sneaker soles when they do that. This I learned from an MBA back in the day.
Back to the medication rundown:
I receive no medication that I am aware of for my post-traumatic-stress-disorder. My guess is that there is no tidy panacea for PTSD (quick someone call the Weather Channel). Whether it was a car accident yesterday, the death of a loved one ten years ago, or regular and methodical physical, mental, and/or sexual abuse at the hands of a grownup you trusted when you were a child, no one seems to know what to about PTSD yet. They just give you more drugs if you act out in public. Especially if you act out in public, sometimes even if you do not act out in public they give you more drugs.
There are groups for PTSD. You can sit in a circle and describe what you remember about your experieces, tracing your mediocre little life forward from the incident till now. That never worked for me. People whine and you are expected to make sympathetic cooing noises when they finish, Whatever. If you are being completely honest with yourself, no one else's problems ever seem as bad as yours. If they do have bigger problems you don't want to know about because it just makes you feel worse.
I did not believe in group therapy when I was doing my MSW at Laurier why start now?
I still haven't found an individual counselor or psychologist (don't get me started about psychologists) who have anything in their CBM trick bag ("Papa's got a brand new behavioural bag!") that can even scratch the hood of a 1959 Cadillac silently sneaking up behind you in the dark. That's what PTSD feels like sometimes, a huge black car lurking in the shadows down some filthy midnight alley. You stare out into the street but you know there is something coming slowly back there. It makes you shit yourself with fright when the big driver sparks up a butt at the wheel. Somehow the bumper ended up right behind you almost touching your jeans. How the fuck did that happen? You are still shaking for hours after the event and you grind on it for days.
Sidebar in closing:
I would not be doing photography again were it not for the serious breakdown I experienced +4 years ago. I know this is fact. I use the limited energy I have every day to do something positive and creative. This is miraculous! I don't really believe that. The epival insures that I don't really feel much about anything. It really is a miracle though, in spite of my innate cynicism.
However . . .
It would seem even miracles have a grubby interior.
There are people who worry that the faces I photograph become trophies without much meaning to me or anyone else. Spoken like a true nature lover, one who shoots trees because making pictures of people puts them outside their comfort zone. We'll leave that discussion aside for now. Trophy also implies stalking or hunting my prey--such a strange choice of metaphor.
I make images of the people I photograph on the street because I like and respect most of them.
Street people are nice people. We talk a bit, I get to know some of their circumstances when possible and I make the image with their willing participation.
I believe that everyone, yes everyone, is beautiful. I really do believe that. I find seniors especially attractive. Seniors don't like to sit for a picture, though.
If I have done my work properly I will show you some of the beauty that is in all of us. Too intellectual?
Too corny?
Too bad.
You'll live.
That's as intellectual as I prefer to get about what I do. There is no quantifiable science in any of it; it's all instinct. It's all me being out on the marbles trying to keep my balance. It's all about life, mine and others, on the margins, and little tiny fissures in peoples' faces. Whole universes in there.
Go look somewhere else for shooters who make trophies out of faces and figures they shoot from 200-300 feet away, then write some glib little epithet beneath the image on Flickr. Gawd knows there are enough of them around town.
I began this little piece with an introduction to my guardian angel (with large thanks to Warren Haynes of the ABB, A fave tune).
Here is the angel. I would not be standing here behind my camera today were it not for her.
If I have done my work properly I will show you some of the beauty that is in all of us. Too intellectual?
Too corny?
Too bad.
You'll live.
That's as intellectual as I prefer to get about what I do. There is no quantifiable science in any of it; it's all instinct. It's all me being out on the marbles trying to keep my balance. It's all about life, mine and others, on the margins, and little tiny fissures in peoples' faces. Whole universes in there.
Go look somewhere else for shooters who make trophies out of faces and figures they shoot from 200-300 feet away, then write some glib little epithet beneath the image on Flickr. Gawd knows there are enough of them around town.
I began this little piece with an introduction to my guardian angel (with large thanks to Warren Haynes of the ABB, A fave tune).
Here is the angel. I would not be standing here behind my camera today were it not for her.
۞up, down, anywhere but in the middle
off the wagon, under the wheel again
all or nothing - never could do just a little
never could leave it alone
(Warren Haynes)
all or nothing - never could do just a little
never could leave it alone
(Warren Haynes)
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