Mental Health thread

Subway

Rabbitt Bartholomew status
Dec 31, 2008
8,060
1,731
113
LBNY
We tried for a bit, but the drunken depressing vibe just didn’t off set the humor. Just made us sad.
 

SurfFuerteventura

Miki Dora status
Sep 20, 2014
3,796
739
113
hulling, mostly...
TV sux balls.

There are literally so many more things to do with your time, even this place, that are so much more constructive, relaxing and achieve the"disconnect" we turn to TV for supposedly.

TV is bad for mental health in the long run, imho.
 
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Random Guy

Duke status
Jan 16, 2002
27,966
1,588
113
For mindless humor in 22 minute doses, Brooklyn 99 has been my new go-to for the past couple of weeks
Nothing great, but makes me chuckle out loud
If you hate Andy samburg, you’ll hate this show even more
 
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Pico

Kelly Slater status
Aug 20, 2010
9,765
22
38
SUP Nation
I took a break from this forum in 2016 because I knew I couldn't deal with the rights here and their pomposity.

I had a dream last night I was dealing with a chick who was getting yelled at by her BF for cheating. These were characters from a reality TV show my wife (and I) watch. Oh the drama. In my head.

Its not what you play, its what you dont play. Restraint. Will power.

So that being said.

I had a friend in my 20's. I worked with him for many years. We were cooks in Hawai'i. Worked our way up from the salad bars. He later joined the Coast Guard. When he got out he fancied himself a survivalist and slept on the beaches for a short time. It didnt make sense to pay for a box to sleep in. He soon started cooking in restaurants again and would never eat at them. He considered it stealing. I would see him dumpster diving at Safeway after work for the expired hams and whatnot. I sold weed and traded food for drinks with the bartenders. He didnt agree with my behavior and years later revealed to me he always thought bad things would happen to me and good things would happen to him because of his righteous behavior. (Hello Trump) It frustrated him that it never came to fruition. We got out of the Restaurant game and I went into retail. He moved to the beach and started painting. He would never accept charity and his paintings were good enough to sell so I commissioned him to paint me a pic whenever in exchange for $25 membership in the Arts Society so he could sell his paintings. He sold his first two submitted to a couple of art professor's from Nebraska for $500 each. He was done. It ruined him. He threw away his brushes and vowed to never paint again. He gave me one of his old works and that was that.

He stayed on the beach and developed a routine of daily foraging in quality trash cans in the tourist areas for cigarette butts, half drunk Starbucks and eaten plate lunch. He soon forgot about cold and hot food and drinks. Everything was room temp with the earth being his living room.

I took off to be a Ski Bum for a few years. Upon my return I bought a sailboat to live on. I had to live on it because I couldnt afford rent and a boat payment. One day I saw him down by the harbor. I bought us some beers and him a pack of smokes and we talked about old times. He was fairly looney by then. He had been living in the Kiawe Bush in the not so touristy areas and the foraging was not and good as it was in the tourist areas. He spoke to me of CIA drones and burning radio interference in his head. How the FBI came in and cleared out an entire town and when they brought everybody back in they gave them T-shirts to commemorate the event. He spoke to me about imagining killing people as he meandered around the beaches foraging. By day 4 obsessing about his murders he believed he had actually committed them. He convinced himself. So much thoughts and obsession in his mind he was unable to fight it off and it became his reality.

He was a fit and affable human and knew much about boating thanks to the Coast Guard that I offered him work helping me out in drydock. I was taking on some sizable jobs and needed help. He would come and spend the day laying glass and sanding and I would buy beers cigarettes and food. He would never take money. He was afraid of money. He felt he would lose his edge. One time he took $20 and bought cold drinks and cigarettes but vowed never to do it again. I found this frustrating. One day I took him to Walmart and bought him all new clothes. His were dirt and sweat starched and now covered in resin and paint. We went to a beach to watch the sunset and he changed into his new duds. When I saw him again he was wearing his old clothes that I thought he threw away. He said he was sorry but the new ones burned his skin.

He was an awesome first mate and I will never forget sailing hard ar night on a full moon avoiding whales across the bay. He really did start coming around mentally hanging around and working with me at the Harbor. He would wait until the tourist boats would come in and raid the dumpster after they unloaded their trash food. It would go from the serving pans to a trash bag to the dumpster. He started getting fresh proteins and veggies. He would offer me whole sandwiches, chicken breasts or fish and scoops out of his 5 gallon half melted ice cream tubs. I declined. His synapses started popping again. Protein. Protein. Protein. His brain started clearing. It was dangerous to his lifestyle. I told him I was going to start a Survival Tour Adventure where Executives could come hang out with him for a couple weeks and learn how to survive on the streets but I would not be able to share any of the money with him or it would ruin him. It was just a joke.

I felt bad about him not taking money so I ended up trying to plant things for him. If I knew a trash can he would hang out by I would leave some razors and a bar of soap. If I saw him walking I would leave a pair of shoes up the road in his path. He thought every time he stepped in his Chinese made Nikes shoes he was keeping China's attack from our shores.

I sold the boat and moved on. Years later I saw him again. His hair matted like floppy dog ears and him dirty looking straight out of Castaway. He was sleeping behind a hotel owned by the Christian church meant for religious holidays and lectures. Little did they know Jesus was sleeping under the Papaya grove at the bottom of their building. He accepted a water but said "No'" to the $20. We spoke and he told of being offered medication but he couldnt trust the folks offering it because they were the ones in charge of all the problems.

I haven't seen him for decades.
 

VonMeister

Tom Curren status
Apr 26, 2013
13,857
1,927
113
JOE BIDENS RAPE FINGER
I took a break from this forum in 2016 because I knew I couldn't deal with the rights here and their pomposity.

I had a dream last night I was dealing with a chick who was getting yelled at by her BF for cheating. These were characters from a reality TV show my wife (and I) watch. Oh the drama. In my head.

Its not what you play, its what you dont play. Restraint. Will power.

So that being said.

I had a friend in my 20's. I worked with him for many years. We were cooks in Hawai'i. Worked our way up from the salad bars. He later joined the Coast Guard. When he got out he fancied himself a survivalist and slept on the beaches for a short time. It didnt make sense to pay for a box to sleep in. He soon started cooking in restaurants again and would never eat at them. He considered it stealing. I would see him dumpster diving at Safeway after work for the expired hams and whatnot. I sold weed and traded food for drinks with the bartenders. He didnt agree with my behavior and years later revealed to me he always thought bad things would happen to me and good things would happen to him because of his righteous behavior. (Hello Trump) It frustrated him that it never came to fruition. We got out of the Restaurant game and I went into retail. He moved to the beach and started painting. He would never accept charity and his paintings were good enough to sell so I commissioned him to paint me a pic whenever in exchange for $25 membership in the Arts Society so he could sell his paintings. He sold his first two submitted to a couple of art professor's from Nebraska for $500 each. He was done. It ruined him. He threw away his brushes and vowed to never paint again. He gave me one of his old works and that was that.

He stayed on the beach and developed a routine of daily foraging in quality trash cans in the tourist areas for cigarette butts, half drunk Starbucks and eaten plate lunch. He soon forgot about cold and hot food and drinks. Everything was room temp with the earth being his living room.

I took off to be a Ski Bum for a few years. Upon my return I bought a sailboat to live on. I had to live on it because I couldnt afford rent and a boat payment. One day I saw him down by the harbor. I bought us some beers and him a pack of smokes and we talked about old times. He was fairly looney by then. He had been living in the Kiawe Bush in the not so touristy areas and the foraging was not and good as it was in the tourist areas. He spoke to me of CIA drones and burning radio interference in his head. How the FBI came in and cleared out an entire town and when they brought everybody back in they gave them T-shirts to commemorate the event. He spoke to me about imagining killing people as he meandered around the beaches foraging. By day 4 obsessing about his murders he believed he had actually committed them. He convinced himself. So much thoughts and obsession in his mind he was unable to fight it off and it became his reality.

He was a fit and affable human and knew much about boating thanks to the Coast Guard that I offered him work helping me out in drydock. I was taking on some sizable jobs and needed help. He would come and spend the day laying glass and sanding and I would buy beers cigarettes and food. He would never take money. He was afraid of money. He felt he would lose his edge. One time he took $20 and bought cold drinks and cigarettes but vowed never to do it again. I found this frustrating. One day I took him to Walmart and bought him all new clothes. His were dirt and sweat starched and now covered in resin and paint. We went to a beach to watch the sunset and he changed into his new duds. When I saw him again he was wearing his old clothes that I thought he threw away. He said he was sorry but the new ones burned his skin.

He was an awesome first mate and I will never forget sailing hard ar night on a full moon avoiding whales across the bay. He really did start coming around mentally hanging around and working with me at the Harbor. He would wait until the tourist boats would come in and raid the dumpster after they unloaded their trash food. It would go from the serving pans to a trash bag to the dumpster. He started getting fresh proteins and veggies. He would offer me whole sandwiches, chicken breasts or fish and scoops out of his 5 gallon half melted ice cream tubs. I declined. His synapses started popping again. Protein. Protein. Protein. His brain started clearing. It was dangerous to his lifestyle. I told him I was going to start a Survival Tour Adventure where Executives could come hang out with him for a couple weeks and learn how to survive on the streets but I would not be able to share any of the money with him or it would ruin him. It was just a joke.

I felt bad about him not taking money so I ended up trying to plant things for him. If I knew a trash can he would hang out by I would leave some razors and a bar of soap. If I saw him walking I would leave a pair of shoes up the road in his path. He thought every time he stepped in his Chinese made Nikes shoes he was keeping China's attack from our shores.

I sold the boat and moved on. Years later I saw him again. His hair matted like floppy dog ears and him dirty looking straight out of Castaway. He was sleeping behind a hotel owned by the Christian church meant for religious holidays and lectures. Little did they know Jesus was sleeping under the Papaya grove at the bottom of their building. He accepted a water but said "No'" to the $20. We spoke and he told of being offered medication but he couldnt trust the folks offering it because they were the ones in charge of all the problems.

I haven't seen him for decades.
I'm sorry this is happening to you.
 

afoaf

Duke status
Jun 25, 2008
34,299
7,097
113
I felt bad about him not taking money so I ended up trying to plant things for him. If I knew a trash can he would hang out by I would leave some razors and a bar of soap. If I saw him walking I would leave a pair of shoes up the road in his path.
that's a righteous good friend
 

ElOgro

Duke status
Dec 3, 2010
21,724
2,703
113
that's a righteous good friend
Pico is a decent guy for a commie. Also, he’s had some of the best trolls ever. Who could forget Osgood Feeling III. GodBonesFish.

He’s my homie. I remember when he and his ilk were coming up, some very good surfers came out of the hood.
 
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Waterlogged05

Gerry Lopez status
May 14, 2005
1,228
708
113
Kind of a bummer Monday, checking in on you guys. Stopped taking adderall daily as it was making me focus and be very effective...and also a raging lunatic who couldn't let petty things go. Road rage, the works Was down to 130 lbs and face was looking skeletor
3 days on the mountain in New Mex for a quick getaway and back to reality. Feeling good but still need to surf. Feels like im chasing the dragon to distract from my career stagnation. Been flaking on my friends to hand with my girl but I can only watch so much television from my recliner. Bailed on surf this weekend because spring break crowds were heavy. Or that's what I told myself.

But hey gonna be another week, gonna buy some new fins with my stimulus, and some more gear from my cousin's surf company. Stoked.
 
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Waterlogged05

Gerry Lopez status
May 14, 2005
1,228
708
113
Yea, only 10 people in the office. Stimulus aint hit. My buddy who i "loaned" 500 bucks aint sent it yet. I knew this before loaning but it still sucks. what do they say, consider it a gift when loaning money to close friends/fam.