Friday, April 19, 2002
my psychiatrist is not a happy guy. how do i know this? well, his office is immaculate, yet contains some exceedingly ugly items: two smooth blue zoloft marketing items (one a hideous clock) that attempt to be sexy, yet scientific-looking at the same time. a small wishing-well planter made of beveled mirrors that looks conceived and assembled by a five-year-old. several diplomas framed in matching, bargain-basement brand gold frames. the diplomas represent at least six figures' worth of education, yet the frames can't have cost more than $6 each. what kind of mind willingly displays this sort of dreck? and it's all lined up with millimeter-precision, with the rest of the office left perfectly, immaculately bare.
i'm angry at him. today i arrived at my appointment 15 minutes late and he did nothing but guilt-trip me. as soon as i got in the door to his office, he demanded, "why were you late?" what happened to presumption of innocence? and i wish i could have been rude enough to remind him that i am, ultimately, the one that pays his bills, and then tell him to step to. but i didn't. he huffed his way through my tri-monthly checkup, stared at me like i'd grown a third eye when i said that i didn't always take my medicines at the same time of day (hey, it says "at bedtime," so i take it when i go to sleep, ok??), and contradicted something he'd said at my last checkup. then he cranked out the same prescriptions in the same dosages that i've had in the last six months, without any comment on the vast improvement in my state of mind since then, and hustled me out the door. argh! at my last visit i'd said that i wouldn't switch away from him to another psychiatrist at a closer office, but i am so wanting to do just that.
yeah, and he looks like frasier crane.