PHP 03/15/2007

PHP: Soylent Green is Staley

PHP 03/15/2007

Currentmood: crushed

My case manager says I'm convicting myself of being flawed. It seems to be based on circumstantial evidence, but I bet if Sam Waterston was the ADA, he would seal my fate.

In group therapy, a discussion about aggression and assertiveness led to a discussion about emotional needs. You are trying to obtain your needs, and these are the polar opposite ways of obtaining them. One of those needs is a sense of purpose. How to work towards the future.

You may not have a grand purpose. That's good because after my broken wrist, I don't think I could be supported from a crucifix. But every moment has something that you should set your mind on accomplishing.

Maybe I'm suffering from delusions of grander. Probably not. This dilemma would have a simple conclusion if that was the case. It seems so much easier just to call myself crazy.

Then I would at least have a purpose. Surely there is a market for village idiots. I could have a monopoly on Central Illinois in that field if I can remove Willy York from the scene.

Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.

PHP 03/16/2007

PHP 7: Acceptance (about me not the booze)

Suicide risk assessment at it's highest. Too bad the scoring is like golf.

I ended up dominating my group therapy session today. Kind of an asshole thing to do when you are constantly being reassured that you are a good guy. How we got around to me I can't remember?

Either way, I'm going to blame my crying on being emasculated from the excess of estrogen in the group since I'm the only guy.

When I think about it, it was probably me reassuring everyone else they could succeed while I was a lost cause. As I have said, I feel used up. There is a sense of completion in that. A justification for ending it all. That I'm in PHP to talk my self out of that.

You're afraid of failure. You're afraid of the world. Accusations the therapist threw at me, and that the group backed up. Worst of all, they tried to relate their problems to it.

All I want is someone to be supportive. Not to relate their problems to mine. Just to back me up.

Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.

PHP 03/13/2007

Futility of Partial Hospitalization:

I hate to be pessimistic with any of my blogs. It just doesn't feel right to not have anything cynical or clever to entice the reader.

I'm the Silent Bob in my Kevin Smith-inspired world, and I'm in need of a chuckle head to kick off the conversation. I can tell that Amy story forever after that.

I am learning from the program, and was able to apply the lessons...I should say display the lessons learned over the weekend, but these lessons also lead me into further reinforcement of my negative beliefs.

Having to deal with other people car troubles over the weekend. Picking up Skullkrusher to park two blocks away from the building, and not having a match kinda tested my patience.

Add a parking ticket to pick up Mexican food after the show slid a disc in this camels back (question: pain or paralysis?). For 30 dollars, thank god it was more authentic than Taco Bell.

I left for the road from PHP with the group saying that I need to change something to enter the main stream to get the relationships I need to carry on. Hoping that fate or chance has anything to do with it is pointless. Fit in the mainstream or be miserable.

Almost sounded like be a sheep to get laid. What? You don't expect me to trivialize my issues in the name of humor?


Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.

PHP: 03/20/2007

PHP: My issue isn't just a lack of twat.

I had to struggle to get to the keyboard to type up my latest blog.  I warn you that it isn't going to be very optimistic. It may feel like you had to deal with me in person.

Wake up an hour late for PHP today. With that statement, I now hope this was just a case of the Mondays.

This pissed me off because I actually got to bed early last night.  Got to bed for a shitty sleep, waking up several times and having pessimistic dreams as I slept.  What was the point?

I get to PHP in the middle of group therapy.  Last one there, last to talk.  That was my choice, and probably the better choice judging that the group wouldn't give me a chance to go into what I wanted to deal with.

What can I say?  I'm over with the group.  They want to know about the adventures of Russ Staley anyway.

Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.

PHP 03/14/2007

Blood pressure: Up. Suicide risk assessment: Up.

New group members see me down, so they are even more afraid that the program won't work for them.

Well, I guess I've always been known for heading the wrong way. Just like my Chicago Cubs.

Life imitates art. Scary when your favorite film is "Trainspotting". Choose Life? Why would I want to do a thing like that.

I am really in the mood to find my old cell phone that my dad took out to put one of those sun lights by my bed. If this PHP doesn't work, I might need the numbers to Carrie Clifton's old dope dealers.

To make matters worse, PHP might end tomorrow. Fuckin' Blue Cross Blue Shield. It's not like I haven't heard time and time again, "you should have kept working at Caterpillar."

Today was about relationships. I have some strong ones. I have some weaker ones. More importantly, I have confusing ones.

And of course frustrating ones like my little sister and Mom who'd like to force feed me a solution to my depression. These aren't bad relationships, but they can't help me right now. I may need to step back from these for a bit.

Did I follow through with that lesson?

"Hi Russ. I gotta pick up your sister from work. We're going to dinner after that. Do you wanna come?"

I have to be stronger. Lord knows I should be able to resist a free meal.

Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.

PHP 03/21/2007

The Last PHP: My life: is lame Smashing Pumpkins

Again, another journal that was a true task to write. I had to stay up a few hours to let my computer cool down from my last blog. Hope I can budget a Dell into the tax refund.

I knew the mood I was in, and wanted to maintain it to write this. So I watched "The End of Evangelion", an anime about a Revelations like apocalypse with giant robots.

Call it a sixth sense, but I think everyone would have preferred that I'd just watch "Family Guy" and "Aqua Teen Hunger Force".

I let it out as soon as I could in PHP today. My therapist asked me to go here to regain an interest in life. Find a reason to live. Just because the meds work, doesn't mean that I can justify going on without passion.

The battle again came about my need for a significant relationship. To finally be the significant part of another life. But they seemed to say it's about finding a girl when I wanted to talk about the bullshit of being everyone's friend in wrestling to get booked instead of busting my ass in the ring.

How do we jump from the wanting to be pounded in the ring to the wanting to be pounding in the bedroom? Okay. They are related as I established. Sing along if you know the words:

"If I can't succeed socially, I can't accomplish anything."
"If I can't succeed in the ring, I can't accomplish anything....better yet, if I can't accomplish anything with my passion, how can I accomplish anything?"

If you haven't caught on, I'm not big on affirmation. I know I'm a good person, but I know I can't get my needs met by being myself. Fuck Stewart Smally.

"Talk to everyone." "Play pool with strangers." "Don't observe to find a place to fit in." "Just throw yourself out there."

Excuse me, it's not hard to tell the pretentious hip hoppers, red necks, and guys who growl to show their love for guys who growl into a mic and make seven figures.

"How can you not demand attention in social settings? You do it in the wrestling ring."

Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.