#13 into the Crapometer!
Dr. Eugene Finklemeyer urged me to keep this journal.
"Jot down your feelings and your thoughts," he said, "and maybe what you do during the day."
Having never kept one before, and, of course, since it came from Eugene, I balked. For months I balked. But he kept pushing me explaining that by keeping a journal I'll be better able to see "patterns, problems and even progress." After all these months of resisting, my appointment with him today changed my mind, so I guess there's no better place to begin than with Eugene.
Thursday, 24 January 1985
Psychologists don't come any more cliched than Dr. Eugene Finklemeyer. He even looks like a psychologist named Eugene Finklemeyer. A balding four-eyes sporting a fully staffed pocket protector: the nerd who would be psychologist.
He sits across from me in that cubby hole he calls his office, becoming one with his furniture, all the while practicing his professional eyebrow maneuvers. There's his mildly concerned pasty face (eyebrows UP) for when I say something like, "I think self-immolation is the way to go," although I only said it to see if he was listening. And there's his mildly approving pasty face (EYEBROWS down, combined with a reflexive nod for emphasis) saved for those rare occasions I decide to toss him a pity-pass, when I want to make him feel as though he's helped me.
"Oh, Eugene, it never occurred to me that I was substituting Cheese Doodles for love!" Most of the time the eyebrows remain in neutral. Eugene has no mildly amusing face, not even a pasty one.
Today's weekly session was different.
"Tell me why you're here, Mrs. Strasser"
"Why do you still call me Mrs. Strasser?"
if you thought I was cruel to the writer who opened with reading email, you ain't seen nothing yet. I'm just not a huge fan of reading what someone else is writing in a journal as a way to open a narrative. I'm a fan of direct and immediate action. I'd rather see those eyebrow maneuvers myself than hear the narrator describe them.
The writing isn't crap, it's just too removed and distant to grab my attention.