Flowers for Algernon

The celexa experiment continues. The side effects continue to be a bother, while the positive effects are becoming less noticeable. I think a large part of that may be that I am totally exhausted, but still can’t manage to sleep. To add to that, in the words of the bard, “It lends to the desire, but taketh away from the performance.” Aonghus is one extremely frustrated boy right now.

I’ve often thought that being intelligent was a curse, and now I’m starting to wonder if clear thinking isn’t just as much of one. Have you ever sat in a dirty room with only a small light shining, and felt the warm, even glow of peace and serenity? Then, the next morning, walked into the same room and been appalled at the cobwebs and dirty walls that the sunlight reveals? That’s almost how I feel. Nibs recently opined to Mags and me that she would never get lasic surgery because then she couldn’t take off her glasses when “I don’t want to see something.” I think I know how she feels. The slight fog that I’ve lived in for the past couple of years has been comforting. It was easier to forget things that I didn’t want to remember. The problem was that I was getting harder to remember things that I wanted to, so something had to change.

I’m reminded, rather uncomfortably, of the classic science fiction story, “Flowers for Algernon.” What if all the good effects I’m feeling are only temporary, and at the end of it all I’m left worse off than I was, but with the fresh memory of the good effects?

please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the bak yard...