My brain is hanging upside down.

My unmedicated, obsessive, unfocused mind stuck in my cubicle during the workday.

... decided to check the mailbox, and I knew I was supposed to fill my prescription today. Why is Marlena killing people? Are they going to kill Alice? No one's e-mailing me today. I should work. But I don't want to. I check my mail. A minute would pass, and I'd check my mail again. And then I'd go to someone's blog and read it. Then, I'd go to TVGuide.com to find out what was new. Then I'd go to HSX, and check my portfolio. Then, I'd check my mail. And I'd refresh my mailbox. Then, I'd check my other mailbox. Then I'd make a phone call. Then, I'd think about my trip. And I'd look at my mailbox. Then my other mailbox. Then I'd sit for a moment and think about cleaning off my desk. But then I'd go back to my mailbox. Then, I'd check the blog. Then I'd write something on the blog. Or a comment on someone else's blog. Then I'd hum the Counting Crows song I've had stuck in my head since watching "Everwood" a couple days ago. Then, I'd think about making another phone call. Then I'd worry that I hadn't done any actual work. Then, I'd wonder if anyone actually noticed. Or cared. Then, I'd go back to the web to read some entertainment news. Then, I'd go to the Amateur Gourmet site I found. Then, I'd check my mailbox. Then, I'd check my other mailbox. Then, I'd read more Amateur Gourmet. Then I'd think that maybe I was going crazy. Then, I'd write about going crazy on my blog. Then, I'd realize that I'd wasted an hour. Then I realized that I still had the song stuck in my head. Then I'd think about that episode of "Everwood." Then, I'd check the mailbox again. Then I'd think about calling someone. But instead, I'd go to Yahoo. Then I'd refresh that site, just in case someone sent me mail in the last two to five minutes. Then, I'd think about filling my prescription. But I didn't bring the bottle with me. I'd look at my cell phone wondering why it hadn't rung. Then, I'd wonder just how crazy other people would think I am. I wonder if I'm at all loopy without my medication. I can't sleep at night. I can't stop thinking. I've been writing a lot. Getting off my pills makes me prolific. Then, I'd check a website. Then, I'd jump because someone walked by my cube. Then I'd check my mailbox. Then, I'd e-mail Miss Gibson. Then, I'd shift in my chair to stop my leg from going into spasms. Then, I'd pick up the phone. Then I would look at my desk again, and I'd wonder if I needed to clean it off. Then, I worried if anyone noticed or cared. Then, I'd get in a really good mood and start laughing. Then, I'd not be in a good mood. Then, I'd wonder how much work I'd actually done. Then, I'd panic because I hadn't actually done anything. Then, I'd start thinking about how much it felt like I had done, even though I hadn't actually done any actual work. Then, I'd get worried about my job. Then, I'd get worried about money. Then, I'd check my mailbox again. Then, I'd look at someone else's blog. Then I'd write a comment. Then I'd check my mailbox. Then I'd check HSX ...