Captain's log #1 Official Date 23-9-2015 (date format dd-mm-yyyy)

After two nights filled with particularly weird dreams I finally seem to settle for normality in a room (#non disclosed) at the psychiatric ward of a local hospital (that too shall remain undisclosed...unless they piss me off, that is).
I am still rather confused about the series of events that lead me here.
I have had a few conversations with the employees, they seem genuinely concerned about my situation. I have no job, no study, I litterally do nothing and I am lucky enough to be able to depend on my parents. The depression has eaten away most of my dreams and perspective on life and people.
They allowed me to speak to a social worker. With her i have been discussing:

• my permanence in this country
• my study plans
• my work situation
• my rights (I aparently do have rights, mind you the depression has affected me heavily, together with the inability to find a job and a brush with "justice" regarding my fascination with chemistry)

I seem to be confusing my doctor with a really sweet nurse. A few times i wonder why the same person enters impersonating two different roles. I blame the meds: Vallergan (Trimeprazine) is causing visual distortions.

Trimeprazine is a tricyclic first generation antihistamine.

I request to change the compound, I wish it was Valium, but they do not trust me, they treat me like a junkie about to freak out due to abstinence.

Valium (Diazepam) is a benzodiazepine.

Little they know I have used Valium only a few times against heavy anxiety attacks, I admit it, it was donated to me by close friends who use it under prescription, but no more than 5 times in 2 years, is barely even using a drug. Still I have to submit to the authority of the doctors as long as I am hospitalized. I didn't even know I have a doctor of my own. Oh my Ignorance is unfathomably deep. I can't help it if I really can't manage to care less of the rest of the world.

However, back to the diagnosis. They really seem persuaded that I must be an addict of sorts (I love chemical porn! I can't helpt it! but from there to be an addict or a junkie it's quite the road), they keep going back to my previous statements regarding my obsession with pharmaceutical knowledge, pharmacognosis (knowledge of plant pharmacology) and drug culture in general, though they seem keen on knowing what drugs I have actually experimented on myself and give me the impression that they just want me to admit i am just another addict. It really seems it would be unimaginable that another human being might be fascinated by the interaction of the human body with other organic chemical structures and would have developed an interest in collecting (without necessarily using) chemicals of various nature. They clearly must not be familiar with the concept of pharmacists.

Humans don't seem to understand that the only reason why i would keep a collection of said chemicals hidden is because (not being a licensed pharmacist) it is not safe to keep in any other place so to keep it away from the reach of children, cops and thieves alike. Clearly they must have a rather childlike mindset.

However these people seem nice, and though weird i might appear in my demeanor and general behaviour they seem to accept my presence. They do allow me to go out in the sun, provided I am followed. They feed me 4 times a day and, most importantly, they leave me alone. 

End of day note, my request has been granted. I have now been prescribed Phenergan (Promethazine) another 1st generation antihistamine. 

Phenergan (Promethazine) a less psychedelic antihistamine to help me sleep
according to Wikipedia it has also slight antipsychotic effects.

II-nterduction

from my diary Monday 29 Dec 2014 16:20pm

Trying my luck at writing decently and intelligibly, raping these pages with ink I have come to understand what Dovstoeevsky meant by: "Differently happy".
But the real reasons why I am writing today is to expose my latest realization:
I am AlienZ (pronounced Alienzee) aka Z-Alien (ZeeAlien)
and I want to say that Z AlienZ are coming
and one of them is Zenial
what do Zese alienZ want?
To go home more than anything
Zo they need your help to build a ship
to go back home.
Cause home is where you die
But I am dead already,
unruly and unrested,
that makes me a dead Alien walking:
AlienZ tha Zombee
aka
Alien-Zom-B
alias
Z-bom

most people just call me Marco...Polo!...no wonder I am so lost.

that said, I write a lot of shit when i feel particularly inspired. However I have made up my mind to create different Blogs, at least One will comprise creative ramblings and the Other will be my actual Log containing things such as information from my current Oddissey in the world of Norwegian Psychological Healthcare.

Inter-Duction

I am an anomalous citizen of the world currently stuck in a kingdom near the North Pole (namely Norway)
I am in a psychiatric department and currently undergoing a series of analyses to determine what mental illness plagues the existence of my mind, having much time at hand very little to do, I take this time given to expand on my experience of this public virtual space humans call "The Internet" I chose blogging as yet another activity for my (and your, if it fits your tastes) personal amusement and building of this digital library because typing seems to come to me as a natural ability. I have spent my life traveling and studying, my latest achievement was to spend the past years wrapping my head around the question of life in the form of Biochemistry and Molecular Biology (you might think "Gee..here's another who's done waaaay too many drugs" the real issue is: I have not done enough and no one has handed me my medication yet!). I am not aware of how much sense my first post will make as i tend to avoid double checking my typing and I find tedious the excercise of correcting what i "say". As such, everything you read from me, is a free flow of information streaming from my brain onto my fingers through analog stimulous of motor neurons and the interaction of my fingers with the periferic interface of a keyboard and the laptop I am typing upon. Apologies if this offends the years of training you were forced into by the brain washing activity we call schooling, the limit is yours, not mine. Sorry if i sound "Douchey" but it's just how it comes out, yes, this is an outlet to the sick machinations of the innards of a sick brain. Welcome to the Internet, I shall offer no Netiquette in my contents.

PS Don't Judge a book by its cover...

the contents might amaze you