Jemima Aslana
New Member
That would be Nietzsche judging from his first post - such a clear way of explaining everything...jenngorham said:
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The Therapy Thread
- Thread starter sirmyk
- Start date
novella
Active Member
The Morning Session, $80 well spent
N: Good morning, doctor smirky.
DS: God morning, novella.
N: What was that, a Freudian slip?
DS: Ahem.
N: Well, doctor, I'm lost. All this stuff is happening. Something in my fridge smells off, but I can't find it. It's in there somewhere. That's not a metaphor.
Do you know anything about cars? There's this rattling sound under the passenger side . . . never mind.
(thinks)
Well, I guess I'm avoiding the real issue here. I think I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. From watching other people's problems. I guess that's really selfish, but I'm a very empathetic person. It's my nature. After Katrina, I kept smelling water in my sleep. Beautiful days in September make me anxious. I can't eat a sandwich without looking under the top bread first. Sometimes it seems like the world is about to end. Television is only part of it. The only thing that calms me down is pretending my dog is saying wise things that I don't understand.
DS: Hmmmm.
N: Don't you have anything to say? Can't you help me?
DS: Let's talk about the dog thing. What kind of relationship do you have?
N: Oh, times up.
N: Good morning, doctor smirky.
DS: God morning, novella.
N: What was that, a Freudian slip?
DS: Ahem.
N: Well, doctor, I'm lost. All this stuff is happening. Something in my fridge smells off, but I can't find it. It's in there somewhere. That's not a metaphor.
Do you know anything about cars? There's this rattling sound under the passenger side . . . never mind.
(thinks)
Well, I guess I'm avoiding the real issue here. I think I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. From watching other people's problems. I guess that's really selfish, but I'm a very empathetic person. It's my nature. After Katrina, I kept smelling water in my sleep. Beautiful days in September make me anxious. I can't eat a sandwich without looking under the top bread first. Sometimes it seems like the world is about to end. Television is only part of it. The only thing that calms me down is pretending my dog is saying wise things that I don't understand.
DS: Hmmmm.
N: Don't you have anything to say? Can't you help me?
DS: Let's talk about the dog thing. What kind of relationship do you have?
N: Oh, times up.
novella
Active Member
Afternoon session
N: Hi Doc.
DS: Yes, hello Novella.
(novella assumes the position)
N: Okay. I'm ready to talk about the dog.
(long silence)
Why are dogs in cars so cute? Even a yucky dog looks cute in the cab of a truck. Why is that?
DS: What about your dog, novella?
N: My dog? He thinks he's a failure. He ran for office in '04 and lost to a Republican. It reallyl damaged his ego. The guy couldn't even put a coherent sentence together. What were the voters thinking?
I headed up his fundraising campaign. We had policies, we had treats, you name it. But the big corporate money is very anti-dog, you know. We couldn't get prime time spots. Only Charlie Rose would take us. A disaster. The dog has been napping mostly since then. It's been very difficult.
(cries into free tissue)
N: Hi Doc.
DS: Yes, hello Novella.
(novella assumes the position)
N: Okay. I'm ready to talk about the dog.
(long silence)
Why are dogs in cars so cute? Even a yucky dog looks cute in the cab of a truck. Why is that?
DS: What about your dog, novella?
N: My dog? He thinks he's a failure. He ran for office in '04 and lost to a Republican. It reallyl damaged his ego. The guy couldn't even put a coherent sentence together. What were the voters thinking?
I headed up his fundraising campaign. We had policies, we had treats, you name it. But the big corporate money is very anti-dog, you know. We couldn't get prime time spots. Only Charlie Rose would take us. A disaster. The dog has been napping mostly since then. It's been very difficult.
(cries into free tissue)
novella
Active Member
N: Comfort bubble? Is that a technical term? You are supposed to provide the comfort bubble, doctari, so just be quiet and listen. That's why you get paid the big bucks.
Anyway, where was I? (settles into comfort bubble)
Doc Smirk: Oh, yes, that's right. Go ahead. You were talking about your feelings.
N: I heard that Junior Mints are high in potassium, but I think it's a hoax. I bought some just in case, though. You never know. Nutrition is like religion--if you do a little bit of each one by the time you die, your bases are covered. Except, of course, with nutrition, the whole idea is not to die, right? Drinking is good for anxiety. I mean the Irish and Russians aren't exactly known for their anxiety. That's because of cocktails and so forth.
I'm really dancing around what's bothering me. Mortality. That's why I bought the Junior Mints. I don't want to die. Nobody really does. There are people who don't want to live, but that's not the same thing as wanting to die. There are people who want to rest and people who want to be out of pain, but that's only about the thing they want to get away from, not about where they want to go. Anyway, they don't get to decide that, right?
I'm pretty sure I don't want to be shut into a jar and left on a radiator and then be trapped in there like an invisible cloud breathing up all the dust for eternity, which was someone's big idea of the afterlife. But there aren't any choices, are there? See, that's the sucky part.
Doc Smirk: Well, that's all for today, miss novella.
N: But . . .
Doc Smirk: You have to leave now. You left a tissue on the couch. There, between the cushions. Okay, good-bye now.
Anyway, where was I? (settles into comfort bubble)
Doc Smirk: Oh, yes, that's right. Go ahead. You were talking about your feelings.
N: I heard that Junior Mints are high in potassium, but I think it's a hoax. I bought some just in case, though. You never know. Nutrition is like religion--if you do a little bit of each one by the time you die, your bases are covered. Except, of course, with nutrition, the whole idea is not to die, right? Drinking is good for anxiety. I mean the Irish and Russians aren't exactly known for their anxiety. That's because of cocktails and so forth.
I'm really dancing around what's bothering me. Mortality. That's why I bought the Junior Mints. I don't want to die. Nobody really does. There are people who don't want to live, but that's not the same thing as wanting to die. There are people who want to rest and people who want to be out of pain, but that's only about the thing they want to get away from, not about where they want to go. Anyway, they don't get to decide that, right?
I'm pretty sure I don't want to be shut into a jar and left on a radiator and then be trapped in there like an invisible cloud breathing up all the dust for eternity, which was someone's big idea of the afterlife. But there aren't any choices, are there? See, that's the sucky part.
Doc Smirk: Well, that's all for today, miss novella.
N: But . . .
Doc Smirk: You have to leave now. You left a tissue on the couch. There, between the cushions. Okay, good-bye now.
sirmyk
New Member
Dr. Novelette (sighing deeply): What can I help you with today?
Not_sirmyk: I am here for revenge.
Dr. Novelette: Revenge? I don't understand.
Not_sirmyk: You violated me, Doc.
Dr. Novelette: I see.
Not_sirmyk: See what?
Dr. Novelette: Your misunderstanding.
Not_sirmyk (checking his shoes for residue): You can see that?
Dr. Novelette: I mean, the sign on the door.
Not_sirmyk (glancing to the door): Keep out?
Dr. Novelette: No. The other sign; the one etched on the glass.
Not_sirmyk (struggling to read the reverse wording): THE RAPIST?
Dr. Novelette: Yes, that one. But I'm afraid it reads "THERAPIST".
Not_sirmyk (confused): ...
Dr. Novelette: No. I am not the rapist. I am your psychologist.
Not_sirmyk: So you're not the villainous character come alive from one of my long fiction pieces?
Dr. Novelette: No. I believe you are mistaking me with Dr. Novella.
Not_sirmyk: Oh… so, it wasn’t you who violated me?
Dr. Novelette: …
Not_sirmyk: I am here for revenge.
Dr. Novelette: Revenge? I don't understand.
Not_sirmyk: You violated me, Doc.
Dr. Novelette: I see.
Not_sirmyk: See what?
Dr. Novelette: Your misunderstanding.
Not_sirmyk (checking his shoes for residue): You can see that?
Dr. Novelette: I mean, the sign on the door.
Not_sirmyk (glancing to the door): Keep out?
Dr. Novelette: No. The other sign; the one etched on the glass.
Not_sirmyk (struggling to read the reverse wording): THE RAPIST?
Dr. Novelette: Yes, that one. But I'm afraid it reads "THERAPIST".
Not_sirmyk (confused): ...
Dr. Novelette: No. I am not the rapist. I am your psychologist.
Not_sirmyk: So you're not the villainous character come alive from one of my long fiction pieces?
Dr. Novelette: No. I believe you are mistaking me with Dr. Novella.
Not_sirmyk: Oh… so, it wasn’t you who violated me?
Dr. Novelette: …
novella
Active Member
N: Hi Doctor Smirk. How's it hangin?
DS: Come in, novella. Um, I want to apologize for being a prick last time.
N: Oh, that's okay, you're just like that. I understand.
DS: Good. What's been happening? You look a little terrible.
N: Yeah, thanks doc. Well, I was going to talk about misplaced guilt, which I think is part of my problem. You know, how I feel more guilty about eating french fries than about tacitly supporting American imperialist military coups? But something came up. I'm being stalked. This weirdo's been following me around. Now that I think about it, he looks kinda like you, except he wears a balaclava instead of a Panama hat. Believe me, the hat is a lot jauntier. I feel sort of sorry for him, hiding behind that moist acrylic fabric. I think he's shy.
I'm thinking, you know, next Monday is National Be Nice To Your Stalker Day. I might take him out to lunch. Surprise him. Maybe we'll go to that new shabu-shabu bellydancer joint with the raw chicken appetizer. He'd like that, I think. I wonder if he'll take his balaclava off.
I think if people were nicer to their stalkers, the world would be a much better place.
DS: So, you like the hat?
N: Yeah, doc, it's very Ricardo Montalban. But, listen, we're talking about me, remember?
DS: Time's up now. (gets up to look in mirror)
DS: Come in, novella. Um, I want to apologize for being a prick last time.
N: Oh, that's okay, you're just like that. I understand.
DS: Good. What's been happening? You look a little terrible.
N: Yeah, thanks doc. Well, I was going to talk about misplaced guilt, which I think is part of my problem. You know, how I feel more guilty about eating french fries than about tacitly supporting American imperialist military coups? But something came up. I'm being stalked. This weirdo's been following me around. Now that I think about it, he looks kinda like you, except he wears a balaclava instead of a Panama hat. Believe me, the hat is a lot jauntier. I feel sort of sorry for him, hiding behind that moist acrylic fabric. I think he's shy.
I'm thinking, you know, next Monday is National Be Nice To Your Stalker Day. I might take him out to lunch. Surprise him. Maybe we'll go to that new shabu-shabu bellydancer joint with the raw chicken appetizer. He'd like that, I think. I wonder if he'll take his balaclava off.
I think if people were nicer to their stalkers, the world would be a much better place.
DS: So, you like the hat?
N: Yeah, doc, it's very Ricardo Montalban. But, listen, we're talking about me, remember?
DS: Time's up now. (gets up to look in mirror)
novella
Active Member
Session 286: a rate increase and creative juices
N: (sitting down in comfort bubble) I got your note about the rate going up. A hundred a session. Isn't that a lot?
DS: I decided that listening to you is worth more to me.
N: Oh thanks, doc. That's nice of you to say.
DS: (smirks) Where were we?
N: My stalker. I turned around yesterday and said Hi Stalker! and tried to be friendly, but he hid behind a tree. I yelled "want to go to lunch?" and he said "I don't like to share. I only have one wurst." I think we made some progress.
DS: Maybe you should focus on yourself and less on him. What is happening in your life, novella?
N: Nothing. That's what I'm afraid of. It's not enough to just have clean underwear on when you die. You have to leave something more substantial these days. So I started building a sculpture in my front yard. It's made of bones of all the meat I eat, plus corncobs, which are like the bones of corn. I call it American Waste.
DS: That sounds pretty disgusting, novella.
N: I know. But I couldn't think of anything else.
N: (sitting down in comfort bubble) I got your note about the rate going up. A hundred a session. Isn't that a lot?
DS: I decided that listening to you is worth more to me.
N: Oh thanks, doc. That's nice of you to say.
DS: (smirks) Where were we?
N: My stalker. I turned around yesterday and said Hi Stalker! and tried to be friendly, but he hid behind a tree. I yelled "want to go to lunch?" and he said "I don't like to share. I only have one wurst." I think we made some progress.
DS: Maybe you should focus on yourself and less on him. What is happening in your life, novella?
N: Nothing. That's what I'm afraid of. It's not enough to just have clean underwear on when you die. You have to leave something more substantial these days. So I started building a sculpture in my front yard. It's made of bones of all the meat I eat, plus corncobs, which are like the bones of corn. I call it American Waste.
DS: That sounds pretty disgusting, novella.
N: I know. But I couldn't think of anything else.
novella
Active Member
N: knock knock knock. Doctor, are you in there? It's me, Novella. Open the door. I can hear you breathing. That's okay, I'll just wait. La la la la. (knock knock knock) I know you're in there.
Mind if I start? You can hear me through the door right? I'll just talk really loud.
I'VE DEVELOPED A PHOBIA ABOUT CORNED BEEF. ALL THOSE LITTLE SECTIONS OF MEAT GIVE ME THE CREEPS. I HATE TO LOOK AT IT. EVEN THE THOUGHT OF IT MAKES ME SQUIRM.
WHEN I WAS SEVEN I WON THE 'CLEAN HANDS AND FACE AWARD' AT SCHOOL. I THINK I AM THE ONLY PERSON TO EVER WITH THAT AWARD. IS THAT PATHETIC? WHAT KIND OF ACHIEVEMENT IS *NOT* BEING FILTHY? MAYBE THAT WAS ONE OF MY EXCEPTIONALLY CLEAN DAYS. I CAN'T REMEMBER. BUT I WAS SOOO PROUD . . .
(whisper from within) Time's up. Slide the check under the door.
Mind if I start? You can hear me through the door right? I'll just talk really loud.
I'VE DEVELOPED A PHOBIA ABOUT CORNED BEEF. ALL THOSE LITTLE SECTIONS OF MEAT GIVE ME THE CREEPS. I HATE TO LOOK AT IT. EVEN THE THOUGHT OF IT MAKES ME SQUIRM.
WHEN I WAS SEVEN I WON THE 'CLEAN HANDS AND FACE AWARD' AT SCHOOL. I THINK I AM THE ONLY PERSON TO EVER WITH THAT AWARD. IS THAT PATHETIC? WHAT KIND OF ACHIEVEMENT IS *NOT* BEING FILTHY? MAYBE THAT WAS ONE OF MY EXCEPTIONALLY CLEAN DAYS. I CAN'T REMEMBER. BUT I WAS SOOO PROUD . . .
(whisper from within) Time's up. Slide the check under the door.
Ronny
Well-Known Member
I have a hard time making and keeping female friends, so I almost never have a girl around to talk to. My male friends are always willing to listen but lack a certain female perspective. I guess I'm used to it now but I would pay a female to listen and give me objective advice 