Please excuse the tardiness (and promiscuity) of this post-it appears that we have been having some technical difficulties.

But we’re back on track once more.

So…I have come to realise that we’re actually falling apart. If society has become the equivalent of a comfort blanket from your childhood, then it is falling apart at the seams…It is worn and tattered, and serves no purpose anymore. It was once good….But something happened to it along the way.

I mean society is showing more and more symptoms of being unwell.

You know when aunt Matilda starts acting a bit odd in her old age? Everyone pretends it isn’t happening, humours her, and goes along with her weird requests and peculiar tendencies….As though it is completely normal. No one questions her occasional need to pee in the potted plant in the corner of the room, or that she has stuck an alarm clock to her fridge door using duct tape-so that you can’t even see the hands on the clock.No one talks about how she sometimes forgets your name, or feeds the cat at the table.

Well, society is full of weird people that we choose to ignore and full of weird occurances that we refuse to face up to. Fair enough that we have mentally disturbed people littered about, there are places for them to go, treatments to have…bla bla bla. But what about when society as a whole is showing disturbing symptoms of derangement? What then? It’s not as though we can just schedule an emergency appointment with our therapist.

You know that something isn’t right when people get paid more to stack shelves in a supermarket, than they do to teach children maths and geography. A study was done where many many people were asked to name one (just one!!) country in Asia, and only a third of the people could. I mean where on EARTH do people think China is?!?

You know that things aren’t right when footballers and models get paid more money than they can actually spend in their lifetimes. We elevate them to hero status…we place them on pedestals and talk about the ins and outs of their lives instead of focusing on our own. Where is the sense in that? It’s like a sick sort of perversion…voyeurism of the least pleasurable kind.

I mean where are our brain surgeons? Where are our firefighters? Where are our real heros?

We are waiting for a miracle, a modern day messiah, something to inspire us…And we turn to people who smile and have their nails done for a living.

And what about the earths resources? We are running our of natural gas, coal, oil…we are told to try to use as little as possible, as these things are not coming back….So we turn down the gas when we are frying our bacon…we walk to work instead of driving our cars…we try not to water our lawns, because of the decrease in rainfall.

THEN we go and send HUGE space crafts out of our atmophere, (just to look around-its not even like we’re at risk of alien invasion or anything), using more gas as fuel than a million of our little gas cooker stoves ever could. Where is the logic?

How are we benefitting from these deviant behvaiours? Why do we choose to let this happen? we hand over responsibility to other people and then sit back and think to ourselves that something is lacking from our lives.

If that’s not the symptomatology of a seriously mentally disturbed society then I dont know what is.

Freud started out studying people that were completely physically healthy, and seemed happy enough…but they kept having subtle symptoms that couldnt be explained, like a reoccurring head ache, leg pain, or neuralgia. It turned out there were lots of things making them seriously unhappy underneath it all, but they chose to sweep these things under the carpet rather than face them. So, these issues, not wanting to be ignored or forgotten, found other psycho-somatic ways of being expressed. Through pains and other weird seemingly non-connected symptoms.

Is society doing the same?
Ignoring the bad things? Under rug swept…Then the same things appear in other places, in other ways.

The thing that disturbs me is not so much that these things happen…But that no one questions it. No one says: ‘Man its messed up that some footballer gets paid more than a doctor researching cancer…we could be saving people’s lives…or we could be watching a great football match on TV.’

And it’s not even like it’s total strangers that are affected by cancer. One in three people get cancer. I’d like to think that I know more than three people.

Where is our curiosity about these things? we dont even question society’s fucked up ways. We just carry on as though it is normal.

I say let’s go ask Aunt Matilda why the hell she doesnt just use the toilet. Let’s sit down and talk to her about her duct tape issues. Even if we can’t do anything about it, at least we’re not ignoring the fact that it’s there.

-Probably stressed out Probable Sushi.

I think I have developed a phobia. It used to be something I just didn’t like very much…but now it’s just spiraled out of control. The doctor called it ‘arachibutyrophobia’ or something like that…It’s a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.

I mean I love peanut butter…But whenever it touches the roof of my mouth I think I’m going to die. I can’t breathe…I feel like a gooey peanut-butter-like-substance is enveloping me…and squashing me. Squeezing all the air from my lungs. Now it’s gotten so out of hand that I have to avoid the peanut butter aisle all together in the supermarket, otherwise I start hyperventilating, and if someone in the lunch room at work is eating it I have to get up and leave, before I get engulfed. The peanut butter with the crunchy bits in is the worst-It makes me break out into a cold sweat just reading the label on the jar.

But I’m glad that that is the only phobia that I have. While I was at the doctors I saw a little frightened Chinese girl sitting in the waiting room looking very unhappy. And thin. She was oh so thin. She has consecotaleophobia, which is unfortunate for her…and even her family really, as it’s the fear of chopsticks.

Actually I guess I have one other phobia, which may be a really common one actually. Maybe you suffer from it too? Fear of dentists? Dentophobia?

In fact, the more I think of it, I actually know a lot of people with phobias of some kind or another. Like my brother, he is an chirophobic. The poor guy has a fear of hands and always has to wear mittens. First, we tried gloves, but you could still see the shape of his fingers that way-which would really freak him out, so now we use mittens. But it really affects him in a lot of ways. But he has learnt to cope quite well with everyday life now. He’s even managed to hold down a job, and he recently got married to a girl called Sarah. She’s a lovely girl. She was in a boating accident when she was nine, and both her hands were amputated, but they couldn’t be a happier couple.

Happy couples…that reminds me of my friend who has turned into a total weirdo if you ask me…I mean know she’s got an illness, but still. She keeps getting married and then divorced, and then married again….Over and over. The doctors say she has amptaphobia, which is supposedly a fear of being single…But she’s been married and divorced 12 times now. And she’s only 29. It’s quite ridiculous. She’s had therapy for it and everything. I think she might be faking it or something. Or that she likes the attention. After all Guiness World Records have contacted her twice already. The poor guy that she’s with now is worried that she’ll end up divorcing him for someone else. Who can blame him though-She used to be married to his brother. And his neighbour.

But coming back to phobias…I’m just so glad that I dont have something like genophobia-the fear of sex, or nomatophobia-the fear of names, because can you imagine how difficult life would be? Especially with nomatophobia, I mean how would you ever refer to anyone if you couldn’t muster the strength to say their name? You wouldn’t be able to phone people. Or have a job like being a teacher as you couldn’t do roll call, or take the register. It would really interfere. Or imagine being a teacher and having ephebiphobia-a fear of teenagers. That would suck. Or even if you werent a teacher. I mean what would you do to your own kids when they entered their teens? Disown them? Send them off to live with an aunt?

Life with phobias is very complicated. You really have to sympathise with phobics. I knew this girl once she died of a phobia. Poor thing. It really was bad. Just dropped dead one day. Beautiful funeral though-really very moving. She had panophobia. In case you didnt know, that’s a fear of everything.

-Probaphobic Sushi

Doctor, I am a bit worried about my mental health.

See, I keep having these weird dreams about monsters. And yesterday I thought there was something blowing on my leg, when no on else was around.

Also, Doctor, I think I saw someone standing behind me in the mirror…And I think the wardrobe door opened by itself after I had gone to bed. But, of course, I cant be quite sure. It was dark.

Is this normal Doctor?

My therapist says it okay, and my psychic says it is a dead relative trying to make contact with me…She sees that as a good thing. She was really quite excited about it. But Doctor, what do you think?

I'd like to nominate wedding mania as a mental illness. I suggest that anyone suffering from this obsessive disorder be medicated.

I mean what is it about women and weddings? Now, don't get me wrong..Men can suffer from this too, and also some women never have the misfortune of experiencing this horrid syndrome…But still.

It is mainly women.

I mean ever since you are a little girl you are told all about weddings. You have some idealized version of the truth pumped into your head (via the ears) about weddings, and then to make it worse, you put this already distorted concept on a pedestal. And then you spend a big chunk of your life worshipping it.

What I'm referring to is the way that girls/women have some blown out of proportion, "perfect" day in their mind, when they think of their wedding.

The funny thing is that no one thinks of the marriage. It's mainly all about the wedding day. The BIG event. No one tells these poor girls about the life afterwards. The normalness of it all. The paying the bills, the washing the clothes. The going to work on a cold Monday morning.

He may be a prince, but he's not going to rescue you from it all. Coz the thing you want to be rescued from is life. Now if that's not some kind of disorder, I dont know what is. Talk about taking escapism to the extreme!

Quick buy a white dress and run away from your every day life!! QUICK! DO IT! DO IT NOW!

Then get a cake that's madly overpriced, and has enough preservatives in it to embalm a small rodent….But that's not all!If you Really want to be happy you MUST have small children scattering rose petals and grains of rice at your feet! I mean no occasion is the same without this special ritual!

Let's get real. There is no recipe for happiness. You cant say: One white dress + big cake + honey moon + diamond ring = happiness ever after.

I mean with that kind of mindset you are bound to be disappointed. How could you not be? I mean you are placing your own happiness in someone else's hands. In the grooms hands, in the ring maker's hands, in the people who you expect to compliment you and buy you presents' hands…The list of people who could either make you feel blissfully happy, or could burst your bubble is endless!

I say get married in the back yard, in your favourite jeans, with no expectations. I'll bet you anything that you'll have a great time.

And you wont need medication either. The best inoculation against Wedding Mania is probably having the rug of OTT expectations pulled from under your feet. The earlier the better.

Theoretically Diagnosed by Probable Sushi

I have decided that I am anti-anti-biotics (i.e. against them).

I am not exactly saying that I wouldn't take them, just that I'd really REALLY rather not. Even when they are taken as a last resort, they are taken resentfully.

I mean why on earth would any person in their right mind want to take something that messes with your body and…well…your daily routine…as much as antibiotics do?

Now dont get me wrong…I'm not antibiotic avoidant because I'm obsessed with my health. I'm not into all that 'My body is a temple' stuff and I dont eat only organic vegan foods. I am not exactly a health freak. I have had my fair share of bad health and antibiotic experiences. In fact, I'd say I'm the Queen of antibiotic induced symptoms. So I speak with a knowingness in my voice when I say 'I am anti-antibiotics.'

First, whilst taking these multicoloured nuisances, you will probably find yourself with either diarrhoea or constipation. Then of course there are endless combinations of other possible side effects. Nausea, Dizziness, Drowsiness, rash, urine discoloration, swelling of the tongue, Head aches, Feverishness – just to name a few. You may have these individually or simultaneously-which makes it all the more fun. You never quite know what will happen. It's like a prize draw of shitty symptoms. And someone has bought you a ticket.

Like the antibiotics I have the pleasure of being on now, have lead me to have a weird metalic taste in my mouth and constant nausea. Now the doctor warned me that I may get a metallic taste in my mouth and that they may make me feel a little sick. He said despite that I should try to persevere with them.

Persevere?! Everything I eat tastes like metal! No matter how many mints I eat, or how many times I gargle with mouthwash it wont go away. This metalic taste has some sort of override button for these. And I cant eat raisins because the smell of them make me gag. Also they make my piss a funny shade of orangey red (which frankly I find slightly disturbing). AND worst of ALL, I am not allowed any milk in my diet while I'm on these things, which means no coffee in the mornings! (I take mine extra milky.)

So since I've had all these weird-ish side effects I thought I should really read the leaflet with all the smal print (I know they say to read it before taking the pills-but who ever does?) It states (in the tinniest of small print) that nearly everyone who takes them will end up with side effects-and that the most common side effect is convulsions.  (The unpleasant taste in the mouth was further down the list, somewhere after furred tongue)

Now when I heard that convulsions were more probable than the weird taste…Well I nearly launched the packet in the garbage can then and there! However, I read on….and on…and on…through the endless list of side effects..and then it said-and I quote- 'If any of these symptoms become troublesome contact your doctor.'

Okay.

When are convulsions ever not troublesome?!

And then there's the whole thing about not being able to drink alcohol while on antibiotics. Or take drugs that may interact and/or chemically alter the positive effects of the antibiotics. AND if you are on the contraceptive pill it screws around with that too and stops it from working. I mean how inconvenient is that?

You will finally end up as a constipated, convulsing, over-fertile, vomiting wreck!

So I say let's boycott the suckers! Let us instead be overrun with infections that may lead us to a slow and painful death! Better that than not be able to have my double latte in the morning.

Complained by Probable Sushi.

I believe that a great Psychologist of the Psycho-social-sexual-mental-schematic tradition once stated that having fantasies or fixations about boxes, handbags, or for that matter any other object with a space inside, meant that one was fixated with one's mother's womb. That one wished to be at that delightful pre-birth stage again where one's self and one's mother are still united.

The psycho-social-sexual-mental-schematic-somatic-analysts who focused on these pre-birthing experiences, also stated that the only way to over-come these obvious hurdles of wanting to be at one with one's mother again, was to go out and buy an oversized fish tank to throw oneself into…to recreate the pre-birth experience. For this to be an activated fully functioning pre-birthing experience one must fill this oversized fish tank up…No not with tropical fish…but with mint flavoured jelly. (I believe 2041 sachets are enough to fill a 608 litre fish tank. So the pre-birther can estimate the number of sachets to fill the tank of his size of choosing. I usually recommend a tank of approx. 30009 litres, give or take 10 litres.)

Once the tank is filled, one must plummet from extremely low heights (about 2cm above the tank) into the jelly, creating a warm squishing sound. If the sound is not acheived on the first plummeting, then one must try again-but only up to 5 times-to achieve this squish sound. (don't forget the squish must be a warm one)

Once this has been successfully done the box-fixated will be cured. However, sometimes it is appropriate to also hold an exorcism. Just in case.

—-

Do not try this at home unless supervised by someone trained and fully qualified in the psycho-social-sexual-mental-schematic-somatic-pre-birthing-analysis tradition. Even then goggles and other protective gear must be worn, and a doctor must be present. Also it is advised to have a wet cloth near by to wipe up any excess jelly that may overflow from the tank and onto the floor. Do not forget to read the small print on the packets of the jelly to prevent allergic reactions or discolouring of favourite garments of clothing.

Advised by the un-qualified Probable Sushi.

I think I have OCD. But I’m not really sure. Maybe you can help. Are these sentences too short? I think they are. Uh oh, that one was short too. So was that. And that. And that one. Okay, that one was a little longer. Cool, that one was longer too. Man. Oh, crap! Those are too short. What will my readers think? Will they think I’m short? Why am I talking to myself? They’ll think I’m crazy. No I’m not. Well, maybe. Was that comma supposed to be there? I think so. This post looks messy, but I don’t know how to make it look neater. Maybe I should make the sentences longer… but what do I write to make them longer? Those 3 dots looks interesting, but no it looks like dust or something between 2 sentences. I think I should write those numbers as letters, not numbers. But how come I have to write numbers in letter form to use correct English? Number should be numbers – 2 not two. Did I insult someone by saying that? Oh, crap, questions again. And another short sentence. I forgot what I first started writing about. Should I read it again? But what if I read it again and lose interest and delete the post? I used ‘and’ twice in one sentence, was that ok? Who am I asking these questions too? Ok? Not ‘okay’? Which one is it? How can I stop asking questions? I think I have OCD. Well, probably I don’t, I don’t know. Were those two sentences snuck into one? Oh no! I asked another question, didn’t I? And another one… oh, crap.

Okay, maybe I should get some help.

OCD Ramblings, brought to you by your very own Uncle Sushi