Saw the truth–
Through cold doubt.
Speak with dust-whispers,
Days when the sky was blue.
I know–
Buried in flavors,
Succumbing to sensation,
Twine and rent,
Ecstatic cries,
Wings catch the air,
Don’t rest.
The fire burns hot.
Every burden, saved,
Tired hardships weigh,
Road built of stones.
Passing towards fate,
Boundless.
So, I might have a job (90% sure). I need to go debug a computer, sign the papers and make it official. I’m very happy to be doing tech work again. This whole thing excites and energizes me towards independence. This is a very difficult time to strive for most people. A lot of hardships and losses. But even though my family lost everything in the housing crisis, we are still a family. We will always have our bonds of love.
This is what endures beyond the acquisition of objects or money. Even though those things matter, they are not the REASON. They are a means to an end, a passage to freedom. A necessary evil. I fucking hate money. If I had more than I needed to live, I’d give it away. I hate it. So many people have died because of it. So fucking many.
Adieu blog readers. It’s Friday night, and I am not doing a fucking thing. And I’m fine with that.
Today is a new day, full of it’s own trivial gains and losses. I take small steps toward change, but with SUCH length in which to enact change, I feel mired in a sluggish pace, or perhaps driven to slowness by a depleted reserve. My surplus of flamboyance is markedly low, So much so that labored words exit my mind through the abundant assistance of caffeine.
I want you to know that I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. And I feel it is pretty imperative that I go forward and grow. I stagnate otherwise. I carry a great deal of shame and regret, but I try and stay positive. I don’t know how else to see life anymore. It helps not having to notice when it becomes a real piece of shit. It helps to not have to dwell eternally in sadness over my lot. I can progress past disappointment.
I guess it’s not the pace of events that feels slow. It’s me. It’s winter. The sun is low. The sky is dark. My mood will decline, slowly. I must address the seasonal drift that I DO GO THROUGH. Every winter. Depression. Every single time. I have to find a way to plow through it, regardless of symptoms. And there will be some; they are already beginning, I believe.
It makes me scared to face The Ghost again, but I will. I will face it and fight it. I will not disappear into nothing, like it wants. I will not.
Wish me luck.
Clear out my answers and see how YOU look on paper.
Which best suits you?
One word.
Moods charted on a numerical scale, daily.
+10
(euphoric)
0
(stoic / stable)
-10
(suicidal)
Light grey line = period beginning 11/20/12 and ending 11/29/12
Dark grey line = period beginning 1/22/08 (with a large data gap) ending 2/12/08
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 = serious problem, 10 = not a problem), rate the following:
Emotional Health: 4
Physical Depression Symptoms: 5
Physical Anxiety Symptoms: 6
Racing Thoughts: 9
Depressed Thoughts: 4
Self-Esteem: 7
Concentration: 9
Enthusiasm: 3
Charisma: 8
Motivation: 6
Paranoia / Fear / Anxiety: 3
Outlook / Hope: 8
OVERALL: 6/10
Getting hammered by reality. Struggling with logic and emotion. Striking at the heart of my deepest fears with the bright light of love. Scary as hell, but worth every agonizing second. Working. Working.
I hear the ticking of the clock
I’m lying here the room’s pitch dark
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone
And the night goes by so very slow
Oh I hope that it won’t end though
Alone
Till now
I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
You don’t know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh
You don’t know how long I have waited
And I was gonna tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own
And my love for you is still unknown
Alone
Till now
I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
Soft hands guiding me
The warm center of her love
I wait, to let go
So my brain feels like a squeezed stale sweaty sock. I am tired in my mind, which aches on my actions like twanging violin strings. I grow prouder, more capable and seemingly more aware of my predicament with each session. I call it that, a predicament, but really, I should use a nicer word: my mental misalignment, how about? I do still thoroughly hate the reprehensible douche-bag I am, but that’s to be expected, given the great deal of barf my life comes with. I am truly sorry for that, because I often have such good intentions, but am JUST misguided enough to trash the delivery attempt. Despite my heart, my, um, everything else, to fail; I guess that’s a way to explain it while tearing myself down simultaneously. I see my mind.
I find it necessary to vent after a session in which my negative thought patterns are exposed, and then I’m forced to look at them and logic my way through why they weren’t true to begin with. It’s both aggravating and rewarding, and only slightly annoying because I would prefer it if I was just right all the time.
He said it (life) “doesn’t have to be perfect,” and I was like “pish.”
YEAH WHATEVER. Why shouldn’t I strive? Striving is good… but this whole polarized response business has to stop. I have to be able to find a center where it’s not necessary to respond dramatically or with impending alacrity. I can process and understand, without taking action. Action only when asked or necessary. That sounded like a chant of some sort… how odd.
I think this is a new way of philosophically handling the world for me. Maybe this trend is here to stay, or some permutation of this direction. Life theme. Whatever.
Not sure where else to go but up.
Rain in sheets-
In pages,
Like thin veils or curtains–
tipped with bladed edges that slice into
the world and melt it away.
There is a smell of dust and bodies and
traces of stale water in wet carpet.
Invisible heavy breathing clings to vertical plastic blinds and streaks down running
and my window is crying.
The hand of my will peels me back and
I snap and tear away like a rind.
A soft music of sighs and moans hardly above a whisper; I trace the sounds to their
source and steal her breath with my lips.
Sheets again, curtains, pages falling;
Sheaves piling and settling on and across my rooftop.
We look like newborns:
Naked with damp skin and oily hair.
Drops of us run all over me–
I drift for a moment;
Making her lines known with a teasing finger–
memorizing
I am just another hot smell in this room.
The clock says it has been tomorrow and today but still like night and no reason at all to stop.
-just hearing the falling softly in and beyond our shelter
Her eyes are open,
like mine–
reflecting,
Pages falling, running through drains and gutters and resting on the ground through the night, the morning.
I write the rain to stop time and remember a moment.
Tomorrow, today.
Sunshine of the center-most place
Brightness of being–
The amber dawn of reasons
I have words that are only aches
A tribute I’ll make,
With touch.
Elastic joy bends to enfold–
Two spiral dancers
Clash and yearn, yet amidst heat–
Beat first for the thirst of knowing,
The reflected self–
Derived entwining pleasures
Single heartbeats
Soon–
If I was to hold one hand over my face now
Would you know me?
Or would you see the other side of me?
And if you were to notice
There is a plan I’ve been devising
To go, to go now, far away from here
And I gonna be so brave
And I gonna go so far away
Where are the wise men?
Where have they all gone to
Did they follow the spirit children
Down the road that only they know?
And you and I know that the answer lies
Somewhere deep in the city of skies
We’re gonna go there
We’re gonna go there
We’re gonna see the daylight
And I, gonna fly away now
And I, gonna go where the path runs high
Oh, I’m searching, Oh yeah.
I’m gonna go there, I’m gonna travel
I’m gonna see my through and
You can follow
We can go together
Trunk in hand we’re gonna go
Isn’t it touching the way the trees hold the leaves
Into the sky
And when the breeze blows
All you can see is the green and gold
You and I know that the city holds, the street night lights
And we’re gonna find it
We’re gonna find the gold that illuminates our lives
And I, gonna go so far away
And I, gonna see the stars up high
Hear me out, hear me out
I’m searching
Hear me out, yeah
We can go there, we can travel
Over the motorway, over the valley
All the way there with your gentle spirit
I am not afraid
With your gentle spirit
I am not afraid
I am not afraid
I am not afraid
I am not afraid
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like i am home again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am fun again
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am free again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am clean again
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
Pounding temple trow
Lost in murk-deep sickness
Scraping with angered fingers
Never gaining ground
Stale grass and waterlogged papers
Plans that failed
Memories that sting and burn my eyes
Forgetting want
Too late to fear
Blanched by sunshine
Shrived to safety
Never open hands to give
Have no reason, then, to live
People with internet-learned social skills collide in a real and implication-loaded context, striving to communicate primitive animal desires while not seeming so. This is a satirical dance of relationships acquired through the all-to-common art of manipulation, deception and exploitation.
SCENE: A park bench, a young woman (JANET) is feeding little bits of bread to nearby animals. She tears bread and routinely, and lazily tosses into the 4th wall. Dressed like a moping punk.
A man (STEVE) stands nearby, against a tree, watching. Dressed like a high school homeless person.
STEVE: Hello, excuse me for a moment (coming over and sitting down), I would like to make a proposition to you?
JANET: (looks shocked, calmly replies) that’s the first time anyone started off THAT way.
STEVE: (unfazed) I am looking to acquire, ahem, “friendship” from an individual distinct from myself. My attempts in the past have failed due to reasons not pertaining to me, you should NOTE. I am blameless, and I dumped every one of those whores.
JANET: I’m quite sure (goes back to feeding the animals lazily).
STEVE: I bring minor fiscal resources and a used vehicle to the arrangement. I also believe many things about myself that I would need you believe are the truth.
JANET: (looks interested, but says) do you have them all written out so I can remember?
STEVE: (looks slightly annoyed) you do not find the conditions of the offer appealing? I’m afraid I don’t have much time to wait while you make up your mind. Women are terrifically indecisive. (sighs)
JANET: (cutely) no, but what offer? I mean… who are you?
STEVE: I’m Steve and I work over, um, there at the grocery, store… I bag, um, groceries.
(silence)
JANET: oh, I guess it really doesn’t matter… whatever
STEVE: anyway, I am seeking a long term mate with sexual benefits immediately. I am willing to make minimal maintenance expenditures of time and resources to keep you off my back; as these will be limited by my personal video-gaming / friend time, and my career.
JANET: (flatly) tantalizing.
STEVE: Your overeager participation would be greatly appreciated at this point. I’ve already had to explain enough. I should be getting to the time when I have sex with you.
JANET: You probably deserve it, I mean, for all the effort you put into it…
STEVE: Agreed. I can arrange a sterile and passionless place to copulate, unless you have a location of your own? I live in a shared parental arrangement, and my typical mating grunts would be inappropriately loud for such an environment.
JANET: Do you sweat? (eyes low)
STEVE: No, my chest and back hair are thick enough to absorb and trap excess moisture, before it would reach you. It is also a conveniently ubiquitous gripping-surface for the various sexual positions we are sure to experiment with. I have seen many videos and styles I’d like to try to reproduce and record as well.
JANET: Are there any more things you’d like to tell me? Steve? Or possibly ask me? (still looking somewhat bored)
STEVE: I am uninterested in further explanation of details unless a manipulative strategy can be employed to artificially create a relationship to exploit.
JANET: And what if I told you I would fall prey to false sentimentality and confounding behavior because I’m just desperate enough to listen?
STEVE: Well, I would be sure to lure you deep into an emotional trap with intimacy. But when your attachment grows beyond what my instant-gratification-porn-star relationship idea had in mind, I would cut you lose like a sock with a hole in it.
JANET: I figured. (sighs) I’ve done this before, and I’ll do it again. I just keep not learning from my mistakes, and it’s mostly because, I don’t care about myself at all.
STEVE: Perfect! Your emotions coming out will make you a passionate lay, but despondent when I callously disconnect from your life next week, after I’ve taken what I wanted.
JANET: looks like we’re on the same page here, where do I sign?
STEVE: Actually, just sign a blank check. I am going to go buy the new hot shit war video game and shoot some Nazis and, YOU, my pet, can go down on me while I do.
JANET: (back to feeding the animals) See you there.
So, I gutted the Marshmallow Sponge. The BiPolar MODERN Love Polka is no more. In it’s place, is this playlist, which solidly kicks ass, and completes an articulate emotional narrative. No question, this playlist kicks fucking ass. Warning: If you are not TOTALLY INSANE, as I am, you may not want to point this playlist at anyone you care about. I’m not responsible for what happens due to long-term exposure. You’re life is in your hands, bub.
I will be describing this to Birdy as: A blending of our two sounds, with love and BiPolar disorder thrown in there for fun.
A Dawn In Elk Grove?
A Fence To Vernal Pools
The Coming Of Winter…
Riding over tossed fabric,
An even petaled, still
Water turns a surface
Purpose.
Fair in a mimic seize,
Passion in blinking waves,
Pores squeezed of essence.
Tired, but not spent.
Take in the air,
About a pattern skill.
Drought of days in colder fights,
Through bitter haze,
You’ll find your dream.
Hope can be built from dedication. Truly, it can. It makes no sense to hope for things that flutter idly into one’s open consciousness. We can’t commit to arbitrary dreams, without the establishment of a procedure for making those dreams a reality. I don’t dig, unless there’s something to dig for. My time is too valuable. Frankly, most people who dream idly, so so harmlessly, without committing to anything tangible as a result of it. Imaginative types tend to drift on the river without a rudder. I don’t mean to generalize, but come on, how many truly creative and proactive workaholic people there are in your social circle?
I like to think I’m unique. But I don’t strive for “getting over” on other people, or dominating other animals at the watering hole, which seems to be the mark of societal success. That approach is not really necessary for establishing my confidence or identity. I find creative expression and career-oriented ambition can lead to a more balanced approach to living my odd little life.
I know many times I dream, but I try to keep my dreams in a place where they can be free, without becoming something more. There is a filter. Things that I really do DREAM about, and want to make real, I make real with hard work. As all things worth having, are then difficult to attain.
I live a strange life, but I do my best. I’m trying to find a “liquid-center” between reason and emotion, reality and fantasy, or dream and actualization. I establish identity through my progress in the world. Achievement sought for personal meaning, not for gain. I seek only to better myself, and my BiPolar lot. I just want a good life, and I intend to go out there and make it.
I am thinking it’s a sign that the freckles
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they’re perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate that God himself
Did make us into corresponding shapes like
Puzzle pieces from the clay
And true, it may seem like a stretch, but
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you’re away when I am missing you to death
When you are out there on the road for
Several weeks of shows and when you scan
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home
They will see us waving from such great
Heights, ‘come down now,’ they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
‘come down now,’ but we’ll stay…
I tried my best to leave this all on your
Machine but the persistent beat it sounded
Thin upon listening
And that frankly will not fly. You will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home
Please take me by the hand
It’s so cold out tonight
I’ll put blankets on the bed
I won’t turn out the light just
Don’t forget to
Think about me and I
Won’t forget you
I’ll write you once a week she said
Why does it feel the same
To fall in love or break it off and
If young love is just a game then
I must have missed the kick off
Don’t depend on
Me to ever follow through on
Anything but
I’d go through hell for you and
I haven’t been this scared in a long time
And I’m so unprepared so here’s your valentine
Bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody
This world’s an ugly place, but you’re so beautiful to me
I’ll think about the times
She kissed me after class and
She put up with my friends
I acted like an ass I’d
Ditch my lecture to watch the girls play soccer
Is my picture
Still hanging in her locker?
I haven’t been this scared in a long time
And I’m so unprepared so here’s your valentine
Bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody
This world’s an ugly place, but you’re so beautiful
They seem to be the hardest to sleep soundly through. I can’t tell you how warming, and peaceful it is to look over and see someone you love sound asleep next to you. They trust you, so much that they would be totally vulnerable in a delicate space near you. MY inclination is to cherish, and my heart is often glowing bright with appreciation for sniffing sounds or gurgle noises. These are the patterns of love I have come to identify as valuable. I want someone to nuzzle in the deep night, when I am awake because of a nightmare. A deep unquenchable feeling of loneliness pervades my sleep instead.
Though, all good things in time. Cuddly time is not procured from nothing. Nothing, for me, is more deeply bonding than learning and appreciating your partner’s idiosyncratic cuteness.
It’s not needed, but when had, I notice a change in restful sleep. I sleep, comfortably, deeply, and I often pass the night without fidgety times or fussing around.
I’m not sure, but I think I’m really just a retarded puppy.
From Inside A Boston Chapel
Stray Not Too Far Downstream Here
Weather Contrasting An Alien Landscape
The Gateway To The Promise Of Freedom
The distant pause of sorrow.
Impending gloom casts a long shadow–
Over arched hills and timeless plains,
Where I’ll reach you.
When the day bends down,
Reigned in by darkness,
Don’t forget that hearts burn in the night.
Defying the makers,
Not to yield to the tide of years.
Again humbled and adrift,
Mired in the relevance of management.
Aching fulfillment.
Yearning.
But moments become the next–
Soon to be ours.
Looking up at the highest point in my State, at 14, 505 feet above sea level.
Life After Death
Ribbed Ridge of Red Rocks
Fly Home Free
California Volcanic Reminders…
Stormy Skies Over Mono Lake
I have already talked about making new entries in the Phoenix Journal, but now I have gone through all the old shit to find the data I was looking for originally. In each entry, from a period beginning January 2008 – early March 2008, I took a moment to write out my thoughts, and assign a numerical value to my attitude / emotional state for each day. I made 61 separate entries, on a scale ranging from +10 (Euphoric), to -10 (Suicidal). That in mind, I was able to have a very detailed look at how my moods changed, how often and what instigated the changes. Typically, environmental factors and relationship crises were often catalysts to rapid mood decline. But here, at least, is what my moods looked like over a few months, during the end of my marriage to Jennifer. The end of the 61 entries marks the beginning of a deep, dark down-spiral for which there is no data to be evaluated. I was back in the hospital for a suicide attempt 1 month later.
I have big thoughts about my future. For a guy with a major mental illness, this can be daunting and often frustrating. Thoughts becoming a positive reality doesn’t often happen. Actualizing bad feelings is never any good, especially alone. This solitude makes bearing the burden of a fractured mind all the more difficult, and cuts the self off from identifying its qualities. I strive to change this dynamic within myself, and the reward, to me, is solely pride. Personally, pride is easily the most amazing thing to feel emotionally. And I do feel things quite strongly. BiPloar tends to cause exceptional emotional awareness (albeit, if untreated, unrecognized and ignored, will not). So, I really think too hard about my future, I get mired in the emotional details. I drift away from the fluid center. I end up at a pole of emotional despondency. Not a good place to be thinking too many thoughts.
So, I’m doing the best I can to shock my little stale planet into action. This has been working out pretty well. I am more outgoing, taking social risks, and interacting on a deep and often introspective level. This is a radical departure from the reality I have been accustomed to. Being without my medication was pretty horrible. BiPloar II, untreated, was damn near unbearable in my unique circumstance. Without any real coping mechanisms, I was left to my own internally destructive devices. I got deeply depressed, latching on to comfort, care, meaning… but finding no fulfillment. Identity was tossed and scattered like ash in the wind. I could not anchor myself in reason. Hope was lost.
Medications provided the balance of neurochemicals in my brain that I desperately needed. My mind can work and reason, but without the inhibitors keeping Serotonin and Norepinephrine in the neural gaps, I’d have a huge challenge trying to get things done. The lack of chemicals halts brain function, and causes thought chaos and emotional uprisings to become full blown rebellions. The cooperation of the parts is not achieved, so the mannequin dangles lifelessly at its strings.
Now, I’m still a little scared to over-think, or misinterpret signals. I don’t look too far down the road, for fear of constantly provoking anxiety instead of hope. Hope, for me, comes from the achievable goals that are established in the short-term; which LEAD to larger goals being fulfilled. Small steps taken and completed, not giant leaps hastily towards the finish line. This seems like a good policy, and it is one that has many more advantages than disadvantages. I will continue to follow a strategy of stepping slowly up a gradually rising slope towards independence. Hopefully, this will allow me to reach my goals, unlike previous attempts which have been flawed and failed.
It is important to realize that without neurochemical balance, I could not do these things. I would have no identity, no one to reflect a real functional person back at me. Introspection would be nearly impossible. Isolation because of my depression caused my social skills to suffer. So I had to re-learn myself, and my way of being with other people once I started to achieve stability.
I don’t know what to compare it to. I find people without mental illness have to understand and process it as just information about a disease, but not necessarily understand the complexity and depth of how symptoms impact a person’s life. A diagnosis is a label, not a human experience. I hope that with time and exposure, a sense of understanding (especially if someone close is mentally ill) comes to grow and bloom. I would hope that people default to comprehension and compassion over judgment. My desires may not be realistic, however; I still hope for it.
I want to conclude with a sense of resolve: I feel more potently than ever that I must take charge of my life in order to fulfill my inner sense of pride. And to me, pride and happiness are tied together. I can’t wait to work a little bit, each day, towards my future success. I want to earn the right to have a good life. Then I may be able to stand up, and feel confidence, safety and stability working together to bring constructive and beneficial mental health to my life.
The Castle Crags. granite formations near Castella, CA
Mt. Shasta and Shastina, largest stratovolcano in California
Mt. Lassen, active as recently as 1915
So, this is a sad little love-story playlist. It’s Biploar, like us, and full of marshmallow love and slam-bam rock. If that makes any fucking sense at all. Seriously, mix it, and get some idea for what Birdy and I are feeling.
Though, she’d be all mad at the old people music interspersed with the hip shit. HAHAHAHA. Love you Birdy.
King Of Pain – The Police
The Stranger – Billy Joel
Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me – Elton John
Save A Prayer – Duran Duran
Steal My Sunshine – Len
Feeling Good – Muse
Hemorrhage (In My Hands) – Fuel
Three Little Birds – Bob Marley
Testify – Rage Against The Machine
Take On Me – a-Ha
Borderline – Madonna
Hanging By A Moment – Lifehouse
Starlight – Muse
Love Song – 311
What You Know – Two Door Cinema Club
Little Star – Stina Nordenstam
Teeth – Lady GaGa
Talk Show Host – Radiohead
Undisclosed Desires – Muse
In a few weeks, I will get time
To realize it’s right before my eyes
And I can take it, if it’s what I want to do
I am leaving, this is starting
To feel like it’s right before my eyes
And I can taste it, it’s my sweet beginning
And I can tell just what you want
You don’t want to be alone
You don’t want to be alone
And I can’t say it’s what you know
But you’ve known it the whole time
Yeah, you’ve known it the whole time
Maybe next year I’ll have no time
To think about the questions to address
Am I the one to try to stop the fire?
I wouldn’t test you
I’m not the best you could have attained
Why try anything?
I will get there, just remember I know
And I can tell just what you want
You don’t want to be alone
You don’t want to be alone
And I can’t say it’s what you know
But you’ve known it the whole time
Yeah, you’ve known it the whole time
And I can tell just what you want
You don’t want to be alone
You don’t want to be alone
And I can’t say it’s what you know
But you’ve known it the whole time
Yeah, you’ve known it the whole time
Dancing spines fingers quilled,
Through the boiling blood distilled,
A rampant running beating heart,
Sends fire and anger to every part,
And shrill screaming forces hair to rise,
This potent poison within me disguise,
While tears and sweat are creeping down,
An ever turning humble frown,
Emotions lost, and most confused,
Torn from reason and infused–
To thoughts of fear, or a scary thing,
Deep feelings then will rise up and bring,
Me to new heights, then falling to dread,
And all the while, not a word was said–
Between me and anyone anywhere,
What is there to fear if nothing is there?
Endure a moment as it will pass,
A fading memory that won’t ever last,
And soon, a burden lifts away,
The sun will shine on another day.
Having a severe anxiety attack. Right now. Trembling, sweaty, so fucking scared, adrenaline, heartbeat, scared. I just wanted to note it. It’s happening. And thanks for being here.
I found my “suicide journal” a few days ago buried under some crap, and came up with a way to make that disturbing discovery into a positive thing. In the journal, the events leading up to and following my overdose on Trazodone are chronicled in my own hand. It even has numerical scores for each day’s mood-level and other insightful bits of information. The journal looks like it’s about 4,000 years old, and is hardly even started. It has like under 30 entries. The whole back of the journal is blank, despite the water, crush and hacking damage the sad little thing has endured. Fucking journal looks like one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Might as well be, as far as I’m concerned.
So, how I changed this thought-train from crashing: I took the journal that encapsulated my suicide attempt, flipped it upside-down, and started writing from the back of the book forward. I am going to make a new entry, as often as I can or feel the need, and document my mood with a numerical score just like I did before. The idea would be, to write, affirm and describe the way I live my life, so I can draw similarities or contrast differences in the entries I had made during my suicidal depression.
I imagine at some point, I will have enough data to compare BOTH mood charts. One from 5 years ago, the other, from now; chronicling my moods over a long period will yield HUGE sums of data. I can see if my mood is stable, or if I still cycle, but slowly. I will be able to compare intervals, different medication effects, everything. There are dozens of practical and potentially life changing things to be learned. And that’s what I’m all about, the learnin’s… meh likes dem learnin’s good.
So, I have already started making entries. I HAVE NOT gone back and read what’s in there. It’s like a phone message from someone who is now dead. You don’t want to go back and hear it. You just want to know it’s there, because going back to it rips your fucking soul out. I know what’s in there, and I’m BETTER than those feelings. I’m scared of what’s in there.
Thanks for reading. I think this is a healthy activity, even if I am not responding to it with a 100% healthy attitude. I’m trying.
I’m not sure I really understand what drives most people to behave the way they do this time of year. I don’t find any reason to “celebrate” the same way they do, nor do I think supplication to the capitalistic agenda in America is particularly sacred or special. I derive my worth from actions and deeds of significance. I do what I can to express something genuine, at a time when perhaps the ONLY thing of worth to be salvaged from the wreckage of the “Holiday spirit” is generosity.
The Holidays have become a cultural culmination of all that I stand against. I imagine, at one point, they might have been pretty cool. But can you REALLY say that now? Truly, can you?
I dislike the Americanized Holidays, Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Halloween, Easter, throw them all in there… these events are, at the very least: grotesquely arranged excuses for spendthrift and gluttony. They have just about as much relevance as one decides to infuse into them, which usually corresponds to the elevated levels of spending, and high-fructose corn syrup. It is what one makes of it, and for the most part, it has been made into a reason to squander resources on useless garbage.
Possessions are practical, but emotionally meaningless INERT OBJECTS. Meaning and worth, for me, is derived from a place deep within understanding, and between people who genuinely affect each other’s lives. What better gift to give than to love or respect? What better way to express meaning than to have someone in your world who you appreciate? The greatest gift I could think to give would be my time, energy, or attention. When these things reside in the core of importance, fulfillment in life becomes truly possible.
Albeit, this feeling of appreciation for those we love tends to provoke a need to needlessly adorn (commonly expressed through the EMULATION OF LEARNED BEHAVIOR, which is to buy them shit), but frankly, this isn’t practical for people without resources or the desired inclination. We still love and appreciate, but we can’t spend our limited resources to demonstrate its fiscal relevance (seemingly expected / demanded by our society).
However, I believe there is a way to approach the Holidays in a search for their meaning rather than exposing their critical failures. If they are principally based on norms established within a context of mutual understanding, then are we not accountable for this mess in the first place? What the hell do these Holidays say about us? Are we ONLY able to express ourselves within the context of our society?
How has the acquisition of things become so paramount to these ceremonial events? Do material possessions make our lives hugely different in some profound way? Did it change who we are as individuals? Do we now know something we didn’t before? Are we changed, fundamentally in any way at all?
Holidays are contrived celebrations that active participants have to engage in, while (perhaps) unknowingly fueling an economic machine sick and withering on the choked vine of time. I am not inclined to throw my meager earnings away on someone else’s stupid idea. It’s not like
I’m coming up with any original thoughts here. These words have been said before, by others with far more output and audience. I’m just a small percentage of the population who do not play the society game, for the most part. I don’t care about its superficiality, because I know it’s mostly meaningless as it pertains to my life. It is the veil over the greatest organized exploitation in this country’s sordid history; one eagerly awaited, and gladly partaken of by its victims.
Go have your stinkin’ Holidays, if you must. Fuck, I’m not about to tell you to do anything (you wouldn’t listen to ANYONE anyway). But I won’t participate like you will. If I get time off work because of it, I think I will spend it respecting and loving the ones who make my world a better place to be in.
I understand you have no imagination, but trust me, I’m perfectly happy the way I am. And there are others like me, who also won’t play with you.
I don’t intend to be rude; I’m definitely ruffled, however. I think YOU are rude for surrounding my life with attempts to gain my earnings, however meager, and badger me with lies and distortions FLAVORED like Holidays. Oh, and to accomplish these goals by attempting to provoke them through a forced sentimentality? Nice move dick-wad. But I see your show, and I don’t like it.
But, alas, this is capitalism. Not Sparta. This is how it operates. We’ve known this for a good long while people, if you are looking anywhere but RIGHT DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF YOUR FEET, at least. Open your eyes, if you can, and love someone on your random yet convenient day off. Respect them, and make them know how dramatically they changed your world. How much you mean to them, and how through EVERYTHING, you will be with them, heart and soul.
Or you can have a fucking Lexus. You pick.
Sorry in advance for this crappy, shitty insane mush-tard playlist. I love her so much, I can’t do anything but be a total dork about it. So I made this REDICULOUS LOOOOOOVE playlist, to articulate just how banana-bonkers-head-over-heels I am in love with Birdy. This album such a piece of crap. Seriously, unlistenable unless you are ME. It’s like the chick-flick of playlists. It’s the gay-straight guy’s ballad to sexy Birdy girl.
Marshmallow Sponge
Wind over-ease,
The sailing way dreams go,
Bent towards forgetting…
But Won’t.
I hurt for a soft lie,
Danger’s hot breath is near.
But crown and sceptered—
In a word of hearts,
Who’s noble hand—
Meaning, born in rule
A purpose of honesty
Life bestride virtue
Wing-beats cut the ice-air,
On her way—
In a gray dawn of the newest day
I have been digging through old Word documents from my distant past. It has been very emotion-provoking, to say the least. I have felt stirred by stuff from exes, and poetry I wrote while I was spiraling down. Crap I wrote before and after my suicide attempt. I’ve been posting some of it, because it truly does provide me with a clearer image of who I am, and how I’ve changed since. I found my fucking wedding ceremony. The one that I fucking wrote with my Daddo. Shocked myself to see it. Hated it. But kept it, while not looking at it anymore. Don’t know why I did that.
I felt better after a while of finding some cool shit. Like that time capsule thing. Fucking cool find that was. I found a snippet that was ME writing my own “About the Author” section for a book I hadn’t even started. I had all these accolades and shit, pretty funny. I was so excitable. I still am, as Birdy will surely attest.
Clearly, this place is becoming my thought-faucet. I will be streaming, as long as I have the time to do so. It’s my creative outlet, and has been an unbelievable coping mechanism through some tough shit-poops. It has also been the platform for finding the person I’m sure I want to be with for the rest of my days. I love her. In an interconnected, relevant and deep way.
My life is taking shape, fucking finally. Medications have REALLY leveled me off. Now I feel capable, ready and able to provide energy to a job, if possible. I’m seeking, and might have found, but I’ll wait for things to get official before making announcements about occupation. Spring is when I’m thinking the assets will allow for a move or a car purchase, but probably not both. I don’t know where things are REALLY going, but it feels nice to have some hurdles out there for me to TRY and clear, at least.
I love feeling proud, every day, that I did my best to live my puppy-head life well.
HIS FACE! LOOK AT HIS FAAAACE!!! ROFL!!
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 = serious problem, 10 = not a problem), rate the following:
Emotional Health: 6
Physical Depression Symptoms: 10
Physical Anxiety Symptoms: 7
Racing Thoughts: 7
Depressed Thoughts: 9
Self-Esteem: 8
Concentration: 6
Enthusiasm: 10
Charisma: 9
Motivation: 8
Paranoia / Fear / Anxiety: 8
Outlook / Hope: 9
OVERALL: 8/10
And I wrote this, apparently, while very high:
One footed black Irish mystery maid.
Is that the title of my life? Or just a label assigned to us all by a higher power? It there a need to respond to such pointless questions? No, of course there is not; there may never be one. And we may go on being mere flakes of a once great nothing. If, that is the way we might have to go on seeing things. The people who believe the Path is right, will be the ones to go on to the great beyond.
Was there any meaning to the words that are spoken?
In my forsaken manner, no. And it might just end up being on the news some late night.
“Who’s out there talking?”
The voice rang out from beneath.
Who would dare try to understand such complex circumstances? The uncertainty to their nature makes for several fatal flaws. The bells rang out like twisted sheet metal. Grrrg. Not a word eh? Neither well nor are your sheep.
“Say what now?”
Damn them sewers! Too many small rat like children asking questions through my plumbing. Complex.
He obviously has the wrong address. Calling this late at night could hold you responsible for many various charges. None of which involve biting chipmunks. Artificial. Something that does not smell new must have a good age. A good age is for the longer remainder of life. Right there at the end of the line. Who reads my message of imminent physical doom? Not a soul. Accept for the few who dare unfold the paper warpedness. Simply place the Floyd in the radio. Turn up the volume, and relax! Become one with the flowing higher vision. Read me again?
For what I was going through (divorce, obesity, depression, isolation), I sound pretty fucking upbeat:
Touch me:
You become
Excited young boys–
Searching under stones
Little waves on shores of lakes
A pear of perfect roundness
Raindrops at night
Your memories are of the desert:
Sweet wind
And dried flowers
Yellows,
Everything waiting until dark
Deep, narrow canyons painted in red
Shadows and lines smoothed
Warm sand between your toes
Waterfall
The notes of river and rock
Gather at the sea
The sounds; a symphony
Foam and spray
Waves carried in the breeze
Back to your blue
You’ll find me
I text a postcard,
Sent to you,
Did it go through?
Sending all my love to you.
You are the moonlight of my life,
Every night.
Giving all my love to you.
My beating heart belongs to you.
I walked for miles ’til I found you.
I’m here to honor you,
If I lose everything in the fire–
I’m sending all my love to you.
With every breath that I am worth,
Here on Earth,
I’m sending all my love to you.
So if you dare to second guess,
You can rest,
Assured that all my love’s for you.
My beating heart belongs to you.
I walked for miles ’til I found you.
I’m here to honor you.
If I lose everything in the fire–
I’m sending all my love to you.
My beating heart belongs to you.
I walked for miles ’til I found you.
I’m here to honor you,
If I lose everything in the fire–
Did I ever make it through?
I find my thoughts are capable, but still very limited. I have almost no attention span. Roughly 5-10 minutes at best. I can’t seem to channel my creativity into anything longer than a poem. I used to write essays, which sprawled topics and cross-referenced huge sums of information. I could tie four-hundred loose threads together in a conclusion that would have shattered your reality.
Now I’m lucky if I get through a shit without forgetting how I got in the bathroom.
I’m taking Aderall to try and correct the neurological reasons behind this disturbing symptom. It is working slowly, but that’s pretty much the case with everything. Life does not move at the speed DEMANDED of it. Yeah, not very interested in spending what SHREDS of attention energy I have to use on THAT. It’s a limited quantity. It lasts only so long, and then a daydream can take over. Lately, I think about Birdy when I wander off, which is nice, but then prohibits me from standing up and going anywhere without sending an unintentional invitation to mate.
I postulate, that someday I will have my focus back ENOUGH to write really complex pieces, and let my thoughts (which seem pretty fucking rad from in here) get out on “paper” the way I had FULLY INTENDED. I have to go back and rewrite my shit so often. I just get fussy with it, and I am redundant with vocabulary. Blah. I have work to do on my style. I think I have one now, but it works for nothing but poetry. I don’t know why I’m so fucking down on myself. I don’t think I have a good reason. Whatever. One thing at a time.
I was frustrated because I can’t concentrate like I used to at UCSB. I was brilliant there. Maybe hypomanic, but isn’t that the time that BiPolar people think is the best time ever? I look back on it fondly, but I WAS symptomatic. Just, obsessed with learning and expanding my mind RAPIDLY.
I don’t even remember why I started writing this post. It’s been 6 minutes since I started. I didn’t even get up and go pee and forget what I was writing about. Just sitting here texting Birdy, and boom, gone. See you later focus, it was nice having you here for a bit…
Discrete, looping wave
Brought straining releases.
Sigh, wane.
She reaches with butterfly fingers
Alighting reminders,
To preserve the passion.
And breathe hot fire again.
They, grown, as one
With shifting sticks in the coals–
And embers hot dance to silence
When rain meets heat.
And the air hangs like drapes,
All over our,
And blurred dancing words
Circle while,
Time stands still.
And I’ll, let go
If you’re ready for me?
Wet heat.
Frosted behind, sealed back
riveted tears, streaking.
Dancing carefree the moments
tender warm within.
When complexion opens,
And rolling waves
Forbear no words.
In sensation, one
Tied to burning ecstasy
wrought, clear hearts knowing
Entwining a being
Towards time touches
Changing the soft notes
While I hold tight
the anchor, in the real, and it’s pace…
Hand up, reaching for the stars
With all my heart,
I love you baby.
Stay with me,
And you will see my arms,
Will hold you, baby.
Never leave,
’cause I believe I’m in love,
Sweet love.
Hear me calling out your name,
I feel no shame, I’m in love,
Sweet love.
Don’t you ever go away,
It’ll always be this way.
Oh my heart has called me closer to you.
I will be,
All that you need just trust,
In what we’re feeling.
Never leave,
’cause, baby I believe in this love,
Sweet love.
Hear me calling out your name,
I feel no shame, I’m in love,
Sweet love.
Don’t you ever go away,
It’ll always be this way.
There’s no stronger love,
In this world.
Oh baby no,
You’re my man,
I’m your girl.
I’ll never go,
Wait and see,
Can’t be wrong.
Don’t you know this where you belong?
Oh my sweetest dream, and lovely baby,
Stay right here,
Never fear I will be,
All that you need.
Never leave,
’cause baby I believe in this love,
Sweet love.
Hear me calling out your name,
I feel no shame I’m in love,
Sweet love.
Don’t you ever go away,
It’ll always be this way.
I wonder when the wound will heal, but part of me knows that memory never fades when it is burned into you. It lingers like a stale odor, and reminds you of the bitter taste of heartache. I live in a realm of fear, from time to time; I spiral inward upon guilt, regret and unwarranted blame. I find myself deserving of judgment, cruel rebuke for misdirected behavior. I lived this way. Have tried to shed this way of being, but it is so terrible a burden that it crushes.
I have been given a new life by a woman who came to my world and stole my heart. Birdy. She blasted me into pieces, and set my feelings ablaze. At a time in my life when I was feeling weak against the trial of solidarity, she warmed me from isolation. She too faces the burden of mental illness, though we each have such different symptoms. Names and categories almost seem useless. I recognize our need to sort, organize. But people are so randomly coded, that they don’t fit a pattern; they are individuals and must be treated as unique and rare. Which makes everyone a one-of-a-kind organism. That’s special. She makes me feel AMAZING for being the kookie fucked up retarded puppy that I am. I can’t really BE any other way. I just have me. And I seem to be great.
I feel so powerfully about her. She’s the most glowing light orb of love person I’ve seen. She inspires me to better myself through internal confidence and self-esteem. Affection and adoration make me proud to be myself. She believes in me, and loves me for who I am and not what I may become. This is quality. This is pure.
I wanted you all out there in “I-read-this-blog-land,” to know that I’m giving everything I can to make her mine, and build a life with her. Me and Birdy are going to be together, some how some way, I will be there with you. Or you here with me. But we will be together, and you will be in a place where nurturing, love and safety are the priorities. This is the life I want you to have with me. A beautiful one, for two people who struggle with so much. We do the best we can, to make something wonderful between us, and live our lives in each others arms.
I’m finding THIS form of expression to be more detailed than poetry, FOR THE MOMENT. You know I love to write, so don’t think that has stopped. I am just trying to communicate, albeit unconventionally, how I am or how I feel. 72 minute playlists become narratives of my personal experience. Lyrics SOMETIMES relevant, depending on interpretation. The key point is trying to assess thematic direction. What is the “composer” trying to SAY with this music? That’s the objective.
This one comes from a NEW spin on me. I am still fucking HIP as you kids say. I have DIVERSE AND MODERN musical tastes. Well, kinda. You will notice this playlist INFESTED with old fogey music, sadly.
ROLLER TOAD RETURNS:
In Hiding – Pearl Jam
Badfish – Sublime
Meet The Creeper – Rob Zombie
Bizarre Love Triangle – Stabbing Westward
Fuck You – Cee Lo Green
Mic Check – Rage Against The Machine
Engel – Rammstein
Back In Black – AC/DC
Whiskey In The Jar – Metallica
Just Dance – Lady Gaga
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams – Green Day
You Are Smart – Akitaka Tohyama
All The Small Things – Blink 182
You Really Got Me – Van Halen
September – Earth, Wind & Fire
Cherry Bomb – John Cougar Mellencamp
Atwa – System Of A Down
Falling Away From Me – Korn
Keep On Going – Fleetwood Mac
ANALYSIS
Clear light on a slick palm
As I mis-deal the day
Slip the night from a shaved pack
Make a marked card play
Call twilight hours down
From a heaven home
High above the highest bidder
For the good Lord’s throne
In the wee hours I’ll meet you
Down by Dun Ringill —
Oh, and we’ll watch the old gods play
By Dun Ringill
We’ll wait in stone circles
`til the force comes through —
Lines joint in faint discord
And the stormwatch brews
A concert of kings
As the white sea snaps
At the heels of a soft prayer
Whispered
In the wee hours I’ll meet you
Down by Dun Ringill —
Oh, and I’ll take you quickly
By Dun Ringill
I basically just wrote this post because my happy-tank is overflowing.
Enjoy some affirmations of real things that are happening in my life:
I am content and proud of myself and my life.
I am proactive and ambitious.
Birdy has been an inspiration in my life, and helped me gain perspective and strength.
Social connections help establish independent identity.
I am stable, able and looking to constantly better myself and my life.
I change, but only to grow, not regress.
I fail, but I learn instead of surrender.
I am disabled, but still capable of profound things.
Love can help us be strong enough to endure present and future calamity.
Life is totally unpredictable, and largely out of my control. So why trip on it?
I can be successful by making small continuous steps forward, regardless of setbacks.
Partnerships are based on trust, balance and distinct individuality.
Don’t just survive, strive.
If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me
Understand
‘Cause I’ve been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just
Holding hands
If I give my heart
To you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you
Would love me more than her
If I trust in you
Oh please
Don’t run and hide
If I love you too
Oh please
Don’t hurt my pride like her
‘Cause I couldn’t stand the pain
And I
Would be sad
If our new love was in vain
So I hope you see
That I
Would love to love you
And that she
Will cry
When she learns we are two
‘Cause I couldn’t stand the pain
And I
Would be sad
If our new love was in vain
So I hope you see
That I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
If I fell in love with you…
Right now, this is who I am in music:
Solemn way
Through deep and yearn
Turning the twist
Wrenching heart and soul
In her fire
Winding stairs
Hands, long–
scrape the ocean of sky.
High above:
Sing in thunder
Wracking my untouched
aged falling daze, into clear roasting summer
A passion as turbid as floods
Roll and shape the river of being
Then, a startling sight
Of myself.
Nowhere in dreary rain
Sloshing through creep thickness
Aggravating, firm, grunting.
Holding to down
Anchored in the deep trench,
until he’s set free.
Phil destroyed he league, FINALLY. Physically disbanded it after ridiculing everyone repeatedly and publicly. After several incompetent whiners demanded that week 10 be thrown out due to a Yahoo! glitch as well as their own procrastination in setting lineups, so it was tossed, despite A LEAGUE VOTE where the MAJORITY said NOT TO DO THAT. He dd it anyway, and expected hypocritical actions were publicly pointed-out, and questioned he freaked and destroyed the league.
In reaction, I think I’m just fine. He was creating some serious stress for me, and others I imagine. This just takes some trouble off my plate, frankly. I’m doing my own league next year, why should I care if Phil destroyed his league? I know how GOOD I am, so that doesn’t change anything. I already know not to do the fucked up things he did in my own reign as supreme lord of football, but meh, I feel ripped off for the time I spent calculating how to beat his stupid fucking point setup as well as HIS ASS. 2-0. I don’t care if you throw out week 10, I STILL BEAT YOU TWICE bitch-pants McDickerprick. Suck it. Scoreboard.
So, I’m ok, just mad that THIS was how it had to end. Just silly. I wish we had a non-shitty commissioner. Next year, I can go make good on tat intent, and run the best league I’ve ever been in.
If I were a Chia Pet, this is the playlist my love for you would look like.
Lithium – Nirvana
WANDA WANDA – Yu Miyake (Katamari Damacy OST)
Black Dog – Led Zepplin
Paparazzi – Lady Gaga
All Over You – Live
Crash Into Me – Dave Matthews Band
Sweet Emotion – Aerosmith
Yellow – Coldplay
LONELY ROLLING STAR – Yohihito Yano, Saki Kabata (Katamari Damacy OST)
What’s My Age Again? – Blink 182
You’ve Got A Chance – Bad Religion
Last Night On Earth – Green Day
This Is Love – Bob Marley
A Crimson Rose And A Gin Tonic – Asuka Sakai, Ado Mizumori (Katamari Damacy OST)
Creep – Radiohead
Deep – Pearl Jam
Spiders – System Of A Down
Wish You Were Here – Pink Floyd
Close your eyes,
Give me your hand…
darling
Do you feel my heart beating?
Do you understand?
Do you feel the same?
Am I only dreaming?
Is this burning an eternal flame?
I believe it’s meant to be…
darling
I watch you when you are sleeping,
You belong with me.
Do you feel the same?
Am I only dreaming?
Or is this burning an eternal flame?
Say my name,
Sun shines through the rain
A whole life,
So lonely
And then you come and ease the pain.
I don’t want to lose this feeling.
Close your eyes,
Give me your hand,
Do you feel my heart beating?
Do you understand?
Do you feel the same?
Am I only dreaming?
Is this burning an eternal flame?
Sorry old people, but you don’t get it. The first time I fell in love, it was with a girl I emailed with while she lived in India. 6 weeks later, we had fallen for each other. At this point, your old gray-matter-blob is churning on that thought. Well, you keep at that for a bit… I’m about to rock your world AGAIN.
I have fallen for someone I have yet to physically meet, though I do know her very well. I have a tremendous appreciation for what she brings to my life, and hopefully, I to hers. Even though we are separated by some distance (2,311 mi), we are still very close. As close as I’ve let anyone get for a long time. Since before my last major cycle down. She has arrived at a time of prosperity and stability. When I’m finally gaining status, employability and responsibility as an independent man. I’ve come prepared to work and do the best job I can at my life. I know I can do great things that I will put my mind to. I am right there, and then, I meet Birdy. And right as I’m doing great, I start doing even better! I gain confidence, admiration, and respect from another person who totally gets me.
OLD PEOPLE: you are thinking: this must be a great lady, where did you meet her? And I’m all like, UM, She lives on the Moon, and we communicate through lasers. BUT DUDE SHE’S THE MOST AMAZING WOMAN I’VE EVER FALLEN IN LOVE WITH. Oh my, that’s certainly without a doubt. And this would be time 3, and holy crap… every time was different, but this one feels like nothing I can even compare to the other 2. It’s actually about as different as the synoptic gospels are from the apocryphal. HA. Didn’t think I’d e able to work a biblical scholarly reference in there did you? WELL, EAT IT DOUBTERS.
I think you old farts might have connected on that reference. Either way, I’m falling. Hell, I have fallen for her. It was only a matter of time. Might as well rip the band-aid off, right Birdy? I know it’s scary, and new and thankfully, not all up in your life and in your face with a dude right there and pressure from that and whatnot. I want things to happen the right way, building trust and respect and partnership over time. Breaking into new levels of closeness and the logistics of all that much later on down the road. I’ve really given these feelings some serious thought. I don’t take falling for you lightly Birdy. It’s crazy how it is happening, but nevertheless very real. And happening now.
I want you to know that I am here. Not going anywhere. Not ever going to leave you now that I have discovered what a rare and beautiful gem you are. The garnet of my heart, I utterly adore you, and find you uplifting and intellectual. I can effusively pour compliments on you, I can and want to, for as long as you’ll let me. I think you bring me joy, and a clarity and drive to be more than I am, to make myself proud, strong and stable. To live in a way that I can stand with, and be respected for. I deserve respect, because I have a great gift to offer the world in who I am. And Birdy somehow sees this in me, and brings it out of me more and more the deeper I dive into her life.
I am so gracious. But you old people still think I must actually stand next to this person in order for it to be a valid relationship. WHY? are these feelings not real? Are they not real for her? Do we not want to be together? Are our lives changed for the better because of this? JESUS MAN, WHAT THE FUCK MORE ARE YOU WANTING FROM A RELATIONSHIP THAT JUST GOT STARTED? You guys have ONLY the perspective afforded you by the dynamic of there not being a way to find people LIKE YOU, beyond your geographic area. The people around you were your only options.
NOW: We can find each other, no matter WHERE we are in the world. We can find each other, and fall for each other, in perhaps less time BECAUSE we are so well matched by our ability to FIND OTHERS LIKE US BETTER THAN EVER BEFORE. It’s a new world, but still one in which love knows no bounds.
Dangling in highlights
A glow about me–
The crisp corner of a smile,
A stare encumbered by tastes,
A want driven into a fever—
Deep sigh.
Calm seclusion for her spirit.
A warm waking in dreams beguiling
And senses lit like tiny candles,
Caught in her eyes–
Which are rivers of sand and grass and sky
Coming to twist inside me whole
Excise my spirit
Irradiate me with feeling–
And pass over into silence.
The cool breath of reason
Forgot the blaze.
While hearts burn bright still,
Like the center of starlight–
Through the cold nothing of time.
Damnit MAN! I have to have my coffee. Every fucking day, I better, or I’m basically going to die. I think I need coffee as much as the next addict, but hey, no one is judging. Except me. Because I drink way more coffee than you do. And if you drank my coffee you’d be all like “What the hell is his gruel? Are you paving a street with this or drinking it?” And I’d laugh. But my organs are all like “We agree with them.”
Whatever, organs. what the fuck do you know? I’M the BRAIN, I know how everything is going to go. Foolproof brain, yep, that’s me.
I need coffee. Dark, black, no fiffle floof. Just bean, hot water, and LOOOOOOVE. Twice a day = my new regimen.
I am feeling really good tonight. Someone out there has reached right into me life and touched me. I have found a person, through this blog, who I want to get to know as much about as I can about. I really admire her and find her to be an amazing artist / creator. This is a special, rare woman who I have come, in about 2 weeks time, to utterly adore. I have mentioned Birdy. I asked her to be my “long-distance internet girlfriend,” to which she laughed and said “yeah, I’d like that.” I about melted into a pile of happy right there on the spot.
I am very proud of my new life, and now much more interested in it because of Birdy. She has brought a mirror up too my attributes, and raises my confidence with her interests. I feel so privileged to have a chance to be someone special to this woman. I feel overwhelmed with happiness.
I have been a storm of emotions over this issue. And Birdy, I am sorry for being so straightforward and such a “torrent” of emotions and blarfing. I have been pent-up, as it were. All these feelings lying dormant, like kindling just waiting for a spark. You brought the fire to my heart, Birdy. I’m going to do everything I can to make you a part of my life.
I wanted to share just how glad she makes me feel for being the person I am. Like a big hot ember is burning inside me and my fingers shake because I can barley hold back the heat. It is so close to terror that sometimes it crosses over there. And I get scared. But I KNOW she’s so pure in her heart, so delicate, so wonderful. I saw right inside her. Right away. I knew she was a smart girl, with a great common sense. Wit, intellect and grace. She takes my breath away and makes me laugh my ass off all at the same time. What a wonderful gift random chance has brought into my world!
When you feel,
The tips of your eyes are on fire–
And the sense of gratitude
Of muscles singed and releasing,
Crisped hard and softened again
Only to answer in kind.
Rubies and garnets
And her peridot glow
With kissing lips
Draws the ache out
Strings on a marionette
Jerking at the nailed pins
Through splintering joints of fireworks
Popping snap the sky white
Imagined softness
Shattering bang like brand new dawn
Whisper a tender word
Ask a secret promise
Mine is mine is yours is ours
And dancing,
We’re dancing–
I’ll turn holding you–
In moonlight.
In time.
I am tired in my head from the series of logical deductions I have to make at therapy. I am looking, no, scrutinizing behavioral patterns for clues to how I can understand my feelings better. I told Robert about Birdy, and he was really happy about the positive turn in my disposition. I told him that I feel “reflected” like I can see who I am better because of her, and he seemed to like that.
I really wanted, and did eventually voice my concern about how scared I was over the emotions I’m having right now. They terrify me, because I’ve been hurt so many times when I felt them before, that I’ve grown accustomed to tucking them away for good. He said I was just going from one extreme to the other, which is totally true. I need to be somewhere in-between, somewhere that I can gain objectivity over my feelings, and embrace them WITHOUT becoming them.
I feel things, so powerfully sometimes, that I am scared and feel out of control. I reel, try to cope and fail occasionally. I do the very best I can to express my tangled thoughts, but I am often not successful. This does not deter me from continuing to try. I have to find a center of appreciation for my special and relevant feelings, and be able to acknowledge them too.
I am a feeler, who feels and is open and perhaps too direct and honest for my own good. Maybe that is an attribute, because for the rare few who CAN see me, they see INTO me instead of just AT me. My heart is so open. My cares are free. I’m a solver, but also a listener and a lover too. I have so many great qualities, just waiting to be shared and explored fully.
I’m looking for the middle-mind, the mind that becomes reason and emotions together. It can feel, and think. I might be some of the way along the road of this particular thing… I guess. I still have a ton to learn. So do we all, right? I mean, who just freaking has it all figured out? They walking around going “hey dickless, I fucking know everything, go eat a dead ass you loser.” Sounds sadly real, actually.
I’m open. The way is anything it wants to be. And most importantly, I’m in no hurry. I’m excitable, right? Passionate, loving, tender, open and true. I will appreciate these things about myself, while not drowning the Earth in my feelings.
The door is open, but not yet wide,
I see a way to the other side.
Time and trial will tell a tale,
Of something made that will prevail.
I’ll hold with you, if you with me,
Together, we’ll face calamity.
I don’t want to be alone anymore,
Wing with me, together we’ll soar,
I don’t know why or even how,
I know I really needed you now,
You have set a fire in my dormant heart,
A thing I did not know how to start.
I know what I feel inside me is pure,
Only for the both of us to endure,
Through whatever life has in store,
In me, you’ll have a friend for sure.
Someone to trust and stand beside,
Who has your back in troubled times,
Who cares enough to see your mind,
And pick you up if you fall behind.
So, walk with me, if you care to be
With a BiPolar man as company.
I feel it, but do I have any idea what to do? Nope. I’m pretty helpless against the flow of events through time. Patience seems to be a great virtue in the exploration of the fractured heart. I sense a huge deep pool beneath my toes, which are dangling down and stretching out in the deep blue water. I’m so curious, I just want to swim right to the bottom and touch it. Right to the center, and put my warm hands on it. Hold it. I care so much.
I’m too passionate for my own good. I’m more likely to create an unfamiliar feeling or a sense of being too rapidly invaded.
I worry incessantly about how terrible a person I really am. How could you drag more people into your failing world? A world with no foundation. Nothing there to build upon. Just a dusty lot awaiting shoddy house construction efforts.
I have dreams now, where I’m being let go. I’m being shown how little I am thought of, how there is no regard for those of my worth. Of my potential. I must be brave in order to face it, I still have to be me after, and go into the world alone. I’m sad and scared though, because I’ve done this by myself before and it is just so sad and hard. I lose track of the things that make me special. No one is there to show me anything new. I become unidentifiable, and I disappear into hatred over time. Regret capitalizes on sorrow. And so it begins…
What do I want? Oh damn, now there’s a question. But what is the point? There is no “want.” I do not earn the right to want reality to change without the active power to go out there and affect it. Which, within reason, is something I can do to change my world. And that justifiability of reason stretches far for me. Far indeed.
But the whole tangent should be dropped. I’m far too scared to ever do or say anything, especially right now as things lie on tender ground. I’m demanding, fussy and impatient. I am already disappointed in my behavior.
But can I help being excited? I mean, if YOU had met someone who in a short time had rocked your world, what would you be thinking about? Would your brain be all mixed up too? Would it be reaching for reasons for it to be “the real thing,” while the rest of me is just trying not to catch my dick in my zipper? My brain is off conquering the height of feeling while we’re in the middle of rebuilding the house. Much to my dismay.
Well, I had to be abstractly expressive, because there is no leading opinion, no center for me on this issue. I have no ground, and am doing the very best I can to hold back all the things I’d love to say, fear to say, hope she’d want to hear. Words that might not make any sense, but are loaded to bear with emotion, passion, flowers, sniffs and happies. I’m a wooer. I woo. I’m enchanted and acting like an idiot, not a friend like I said I was. I’m already not doing what I said, and that sucks.
Passions and desires aside: there are still so many things we have to go through in our distinct lives. And me… holy crap, I have a long way to go in rebuilding my little world idea into something ANYONE would want to be a part of.
What audacity I have in wriggling my wormy way into her life? For my own heart breaks over the dreams; the thought of being cast away like garbage. It’s because deep inside me somewhere, I know I am garbage, and I know if she threw me out as such, it would be reasonable. Everyone else who has looked right down inside me and seen who I am has then disliked the whole picture enough to throw it all out forever and never want to see me again. Like I deserved that?
I’m not a terrible man. I’m just an idiot puppy. People take me too seriously sometimes. My thoughts are less “real” than yours, chances are. My mentally ill brain is rarely settled on ANYTHING thinking it’s the only way to go. It’s a balancing act up here, hence, my two conflicting sides on this issue… on every issue… every day… all the time.
I am expressive, and sometimes embellishing without perspective to verify it’s exaggeration. I am BiPolar, up and down, down and up. Sad and lonely, content and blissful. Where am I? I’m somewhere in this tumult, trying to sort things out. Trying to feel as safe as possible while taking a HUGE RISK with another person, letting her into my soul, into my heart, and keeping her close and special. In the best way I can honor someone I care deeply for, I can treasure every beautiful thing she brings to our friendship, and thank her for being a unique person who benefits my world. She does, no question. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that with someone.
See? All mixed up. And a damn open book on top of it. So even my secret struggles get too big for my britches, and here I am taking it out on my poor blog. I hope you all understand how utterly confusing it is to be me sometimes. I wish i had the strength to hold my ship to a steady course… my hands are shaking because I’m scared and very excited. But I don’t know what to do. I’m listening, and trying to show who I am, as best I can. That’s all a puppy can do, I guess.
The frequent catch
Oft grossed unjust.
The heart breaks over–
Pounded by reason
Dying on the vine
of time.
Wondering and lost
perplexed and crossed.
Vertical dangers
Harbingers tell sadness before
Wicked willows are sobbing
And the trail goes cold.
How can he sing
when his voice chokes down?
Snatched from a treetop haven.
Eviscerated by hunger.
Fuel for another.
Waste for a third.
Simplicity is cold.
Driving a spike through me
a reality beyond the touch.
The rope to the boat has been cut
nowhere I can hold again.
I just had to share what a good job I did not freaking out over my Uncle’s tantrum.
VELVET FOG = My Uncle Phil’s team
NC03182512 (Air Coryell) = Me
See how much FUEL is there, plus all the other mean stuff he sent me? I just tried to have a positive thing to say, even though my emotions are all fussed up about it. I’ll get over that, WITHOUT taking it out on him or anyone else who does not deserve it.
Under, the shifting rock was touching, grinding slow, out to the East. And the water that once came to make the tension break had gone away. Now it had been building, and it had been waiting… straining, aching, but not moving. It was trying to slide Northwest, while the other side held, stretching down towards the Southeast. Two opposing forces, ground to a halt that transcends all known history of the area. Never having a chance, in the last 300 years or more to snap, and release the tension; it continues to build. It’s been too long, and I can almost feel a groan in the Earth when I step on it. I can feel the land I’m standing on, slowly, with great resistance, compressing into the North American tectonic plate. It’s been building for more then 3 generations. It’s out there, waiting to put an end to my understanding of reality. I think about it, like I’m looking right at my own death, and wondering when it is going to happen, and how long will it take before I die, and why will I die and how? My bet would be on injury, infection due to injury, or being trapped in a structural collapse and crushed to death. We have no idea. I have no idea. We live such simple lives, and then huge disasters strike and so many people are left totally stunned, outraged and many, dead; homeless people look for the broken remains of their families and their lives. It’s just news b-roll for most of you. It will be the end of reality for me. I am scared of what will happen, but without life altering change, I am likely to be here when it happens. It’s waiting. It’s out there, getting more and more compressed every day. I’m in the heart of the world’s most active and densely populated earthquake zones, the Southern section of the San Andreas fault. One day, a magnitude 8 or greater earthquake will greatly alter my reality, and may cause me, or many people I know, to die. It may happen in the next 5 – 10 years. Which is the foreseeable future, as far as I can tell. I’m not sure, but I know, very much, that it is out there. I’m waiting. Not unprepared, but waiting, and ready. But afraid too.
I’m feeling mired in the technicalities of life. my heart wants to race to the end of achievement, and the height of emotion with no regard for patience or procedure. My sad and often defeatist thoughts are compounding my frustration dramatically. My actual failures are a constant reminder of what I should not re-attempt, or of what I can never be. I am a perplexing mix of ambition and desperation. I strive, I fail, I cry, but strive again anyway. I am trying to face The Ghost alone, and I’m scared and lonely with no one to hold me when it wins. Well, truthfully, I am not nearly as alone as I have been. I met Birdy through THIS VERY blog of mine, and at least I feel like someone else “gets it.” I like the way I feel about that, and I’m eager to help her… much less eager to help myself. I’m content with the level of abuse I render on myself. Just punishment for a life wrought of debt and disappointment. I might be the most unappealing person I know of. Adieu for now. I have a lot to think about, it seems.
Crossed in an instant
Dazzled in feeling
Lost.
His palms on fire–
Gasp.
Heat burden in chests that pound
around and on into the night.
Hate burning rage
Too far to touch.
Tingeing in the fingertips
like electric magic
And then turning,
Down into cold winds,
Driving North an arctic breath–
until I can’t feel anymore…
and my feet are gone…
The waves of ache
over and over
Despair, of hands that just let go–
That can’t save him
from falling
I love to write. Clearly. I love the way I express myself in words, on the “page,” or whatever we want to call it. I wish I could do this, and somehow sustain my life by doing so. But even sane people have an enormously hard time establishing themselves as writers. And I’m too spastic and inconstant to ever become an accomplished, dedicated author.
I think I would never be able to finish A book. I tried once, when I was hypomanic and had a vivid dream about a different “high fantasy” reality, where life-energy was visible light running in veins along the ground, and all things were connected through it. Believe me, I have some DETAILS on that dream. It was a place called “The Realm” and the “Stream” was the life-energy, and it changed color depending upon environment, and there were people who could wield it, and they were called “Shifters,” because they could bend life and reality with the power of the Stream. See, fucking nuts right? I have so many more details I could sit here for days and write about it. Names of royals and their children, urban area layouts, a continent map (fully labeled), city names, whole landscapes, thousands of individuals, and their unique cultures and heritages. I saw this world in my dream, and I started trying to write it out. But I have the IDEA stuck in my head, with the symptomatic burden of my brain simply preventing me from organizing and dedicating myself to doing it.
I have no commitment skills to ever complete a book. If I were to try, however, I certainly couldn’t do it without constant assistance. I’d give you credit as the author, seriously, as long as the idea gets down and out of my head, and people can enjoy it (hopefully), you can have all the money. Kick me down a Franklin and I can go grab a quarter oz and think of a new insane rad idea. It’s what I seem to be good at. But… probably, no one will ever know.
Dawn in hush
Little yawn
Sing to sing
A morning song.
Parting perch
Dangled down
Underneath,
Her evening now–
A wrinkled chip
A button bay
Sing to sing
Her cares away.
Silly dance
Mind the sun
Catching wings
But never done.
Fly to wing
To sing to sing
Uncare your day–
Then fly away.
Tell shushed secrets.
Shades of violet, twilit
Twisting up and in.
Derivative.
Active.
Time.
Make mine a tempest
When my passion is lightning–
And my breath is rain.
Thunder.
I shout where no one can hear.
Purple and blue days
Blinking through the memories,
Missing a dance in white.
The smell of ours
Commingled knitamacy
And the precious light
Of grace and touch.
Such.
Electric night
Pulsing in me
Sinking down
Into the blue
Forgotten in time.
Mine.
Reaching.
Weight of water
Choke gulps into me
Cackling dying life
Smashing parts compounded
Crushing pound on pound
Down
And down
Into the dark.
Dark.
HAHAHAHAHA, Poor Eli.
Sometimes I dream vividly. This can have advantages, but on rare occasions, the sheer depth of my nightmares can be revealed. I have had a reoccurring figure cross the boundaries of these nightmares, and it’s presence is unmistakable. I call this figure “The Ghost” because it conjures within me, a sense of the unknown, and supernaturally terrifying. I can’t see The Ghost, but I can feel it. It is typically represented by suffocating darkness. And it is always waiting for me, behind a closed door. One that I will open.
I will be keenly aware, in these nightmares, that I am walking slower than normal, everything is dragging. Everything is being pulled towards the door… which is just ahead. There is always a hallway, and a door at the end. It’s always closed. But The Ghost is behind there. I know it is. I can feel it back there. It terrifies me, to the fear of death. I am terrified that this thing is going to kill me. But. I keep walking… I reach out…
You really want to know why I’m walking down there with my muscles tight and my fists clenched? Because I’m so scared, in my dream, so scared I could almost be shaking and crying. As I get closer to the door, I keep moving my feet one step at a time, one after the other. BUT WHY? Because I’m saying to myself as I walk “you are brave, you are strong, you can do this, you can BEAT IT.” I think I am afraid, and fearlessly confronting something much greater than me, and much more powerful.
It’s still back there, and I’m touching the doorknob. It’s cold.
The Ghost is darkness, and when I open the door, it flies off the hinges and The Ghost is on me. It suffocates my body, ripping the air out of my lungs and crushing me. I’m asphyxiating. I can’t breathe. It’s killing me! The fucking Ghost is killing me! It’s so much stronger than I am, I can’t fight it. I came in there all brave, and It’s absolutely killing me, and I had no chance whatsoever. I am dying, and the incorporeal darkness of pure terror is watching the last gasps of life leave my body.
Then I wake up.
But do you get that while I was in my head the dream, the Ghost was killing me, and I was dying, AND I COULD FEEL EVERY HORRIBLE SECOND OF IT, AND STILL REMEMBER WHAT IT FELT LIKE WHEN THE GHOST WAS KILLING ME. I felt scared, alone and powerless to stop it, no matter how much my little brave heart drove me to confront it. I had no chance. I had paid for my arrogance with death. Now I was awake, in bed, and chilled to the bone with fear.
I don’t quite understand what it is, or what it represents. It transcends the boundaries of dreams, and has been a key player in about 6 distinct nightmares. It seems to embody some part of my subconscious. It preys on my deepest animal fright, because the idea of being strangled by a ghost is, truly, incomprehensibly horrifying to me. Hits my “I AM SCARED OF THAT” button. Every time. Frightened to my core. When I wake up, that WHOLE DAY is often obliterated, because I still feel like someone who has been emotionally poisoned in their brain somehow. It’s strange, I know. Not everyone will understand that someone could lose a whole day because of 1 nightmare… but it happens. And I remember. Keenly.
The Ghost is hard for me to talk about. I haven’t seen the ghost in over a year. I’m counting my blessings over this. The Ghost was a part of my first, and last major depressive cycles. The Ghost made my depression MUCH worse, and scared me very badly. I’m not sure if this will make any sense when I read it again, but I can’t really think how else to express it. I hope that’s clear.
Perhaps I will see The Ghost again, but I’d like to think it’s gone on to better things. Fingers crossed.
I had a great chat with Will (my friend who is staying with me right now), because he was having a hard time with his bad anxious feelings coming up, and then he would get to dwelling on them and thinking and elaborating and expanding them. So, we talked about it, and I offered this advice:
You can’t start by resisting the feeling, or trying to understand it. You just have to sit with your feelings, good or bad, and let them be within you. Even your bad feelings should be respected, because ultimately, they still belong to you, you know? They are yours, whatever the connotation, and they are a part of you, and you are special and unique. You are the rarest thing on Earth, and even your nightmares are special. They, and your feelings (all of them) are expressions of the person you are, and are genuine, real and always have worth. If you (my friend Will, just to be clear) have a bad feeling, hold it, respect it for what it is, and then go on about your life, without BECOMING that feeling or needing to dig into it further inside your head. Just, let it be inside your mind, your body. Let it. You can’t THINK it into oblivion, or UNDO it with your mind. It is working it’s way through you regardless of resistance. Let it wash over you, like a wave breaking on the shore… it too will recede back. It will pass over you, and you will be ok. It is not the end. It is only another thing that happens, and we are here. You are not alone, and you are important. You’re going to be fine.
I think that helped. I have to ask him about our conversation; see how he’s feeling now. He might start coming here too to gain from the resource this blogafied internet place has become. Thanks to everyone out there who reads and comments, you are making this a healthy community for special, unique and wonderful disabled people, like ME. I am warmed by your presence, so thanks. =)
I changed my picture, so now you know what I actually look like. It made me feel very nervous and scared, and I thought I should do a big post, and that scared me EVEN MORE, and I felt REALLY BAD after I posted it. So I deleted it. I want you to KNOW the person who blathers on out here, but I’m still very afraid of judgement and ridicule. So I made a funny face to hide my feelings on the issue. Just can’t be 100% real yet, I guess…
Sigh.
I’m crushed by my vileness. A thief of lives. A bombastic bloated ape frivolously wasting time, resources, and moments on endeavors wholly self-satisfying and in regard to none. My exploits have resulted in calamity and pain and trauma and violence. I am meek, small, feeble, manipulable and totally without identity or worth to others. My stock is at an all time low. I have nothing that anyone would want. My heart is a crushed pancake of red slop. My insides are twisting around in a giant salad fork. My eyes are full of tears, because every day, I have to listen to myself saying how much I hate myself, hate who I’ve been, HATE who I am now, and wish nothing but for my life to end in some meaningless and inconsequential way. I just want to be slammed into by a car, or a bus, or be vaporized my an IED, or a car bomb. I hate my body, my fucked up brain. I hate being alive inside this worthless, unwanted person shell. I hate it. I never want children. I don’t want to fuck up any more lives than I already have.
I don’t deserve your respect. Your acknowledgment. I’m a degenerate, and I feed off of others to survive. Soon, I will infect you with my poison, and you will spiral into the misery that all do, who come into contact with my life.
I’m 7-2 currently.
This week, I must “stump the Unk.” I need to throttle his arrogant overbearing ass. I’d REALLY LIKE to be 2-0 vs him, and I think I will be pissed if it goes another way. Really. Injustice reigns if he wins. It would be a crime.
The league appears to be on my side, however:
No one ever votes, but me and Phil… until this week. =)
This is my starting lineup. Aaron Rodgers and Randall Cobb on BYE this week, so, chances of winning are lower than I’d hoped.
Remember, bonus yards over thresholds ~100 yards and bonuses for plays over 40 yards long. PP Attempt (.3) PP Reception (.5) [My reasoning for 4 RB, they’re always worth a bunch IF they get the carries]
QB: Ryan Fitzpatrick @ NE
WR 1: Julio Jones @ NO
WR 2: Danny Amendola @ SF
RB 1: Marshawn Lynch vs NYJ
RB 2: Michael Turner @ NO
TE: Aaron Hernandez vs BUF
FLEX 1: Ryan Mathews @ TB
FLEX 2: Isaac Redman vs KC
K: Matt Prater @ CAR
DEF/ST: Tampa Bay vs SD
Good, Bad, Neutral?
**EDIT 11/10/12**
QB: Carson Palmer @ BAL
WR 1: Julio Jones @ NO
WR 2: Danny Amendola @ SF
RB 1: Marshawn Lynch vs NYJ
RB 2: Michael Turner @ NO
TE: Brandon Myers vs BAL
FLEX 1: Ryan Mathews @ TB
FLEX 2: Isaac Redman vs KC
K: Matt Prater @ CAR
DEF/ST: New England vs BUF
AND I got this fucking message as a result of everyone picking me.
Oh, talk about your back-handed compliment.
Asshole. In other words “I am pretending to pick myself because I want you to think that I think I’m going to lose, so really, it’s like I picked your team, aren’t I great? But I didn’t pick your team at all actually, I picked my team, because really what I’m saying is, I think MY team is better, and I think those other guys in the league just hate YOU less than ME so that’s the only reason they voted for you. And I still think you wil lose, and I will lose, but really, I’m going to beat you.”
Anyone but Phil. Please holy monkey catapult I’d like to stick a pile of shit in his face. >_<
I can’t wait to tell him I’m doing my own league next year. To hell with this.
I have had several very vivid sex dreams in the last few days. They are intriguing, but NOT really on target for how my brain is currently geared. I’m doing a lot of other important shit with my life, and sex and physical fulfillment is quite low on my list. QUITE.
But nevertheless I’m pestered, and “brought to attention” at inconvenient hours of the night. I am not sure if this is an Aderall thing, but they started about the same time.
Strange, unhelpful side-effect. And involving my exes, which is JUST FUCKING GREAT. No pun intended.
-_-
Just decided: not talking to my doctor about this. No fucking way home fries. AWKWARD.
Not a great day. Therapy was hard, I feel sad inside. Alone in a way only meaning can quench. And it all seems so far away, and only getting farther.
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 = serious problem, 10 = not a problem), rate the following:
Emotional Health: 5
Physical Depression Symptoms: 8
Physical Anxiety Symptoms: 7
Racing Thoughts: 4
Depressed Thoughts: 3
Self-Esteem: 6
Concentration: 5
Enthusiasm: 6
Charisma: 7
Motivation: 6
Paranoia / Fear / Anxiety: 9
Outlook / Hope: 4
OVERALL: 6/10
Robert is always doing this to me. I’ll say something clearly self-hating, and he’ll make me go logic through why I had said it, and what it means and all that. Damn it. This whole hating myself thing is getting harder because of him. AND he’s impaling me with the dull spike of MY OWN REASONING ABILITIES. Sigh.
I hurt. But it’s not because of Robert.
I broke down and cried today in session. I remember so many horrible things, all at once sometimes. We opened the “past relationships” worm-can last time, and never closed it. Then we sorta kinda got into it again, and left it open again. He said he wanted to call me tomorrow, on the phone, because he was worried about my “state.” Truth be told, so am I.
I break down to the smallest of emotional triggers. Overwhelming loneliness and a sense of total alienation eats me alive from the inside. I am left spiraling into a world full of long, dark shadows and aching reminders of what happy felt like. It’s a place I find myself stranded in from time to time, and more so lately because of the worms.
I’m not wanting to get into it. I had to calm myself down again a minute ago. I can’t even LISTEN to anything slow, and musically methodical. It just gets me there… to that place where I no longer feel good.
I wish.
Nope. Not going there.
I hope you all have a good rest of your week. I’m not sure what to make of things. Feeling so mixed up inside. Like blended carrot chunks.
Adieu.
I’ve decided to try and be more social, and try to be more of a help to people who share this burden of mental illness. I feel like giving back, because so many have given to me, to help me get some sense of stability in recent weeks. I went back to an old bipolar and depression support forum (PsychCentral) that I was a part of when I got really sick in 2011. Lots of people there reached out, and made me feel not alone. My confidence grew, and I felt unafraid, after a time, to face things. I used to chat with people who were having insomnia and anxiety, and that really helped me get through the worst of the symptoms.
I want to do the same. I feel I have enough knowledge to help, and certainly enough time. I want to be a great listener, and an attentive like-minded peer. I feel the need to do this. I really do. I feel it with conviction and heart.
I know it’s really really hard, for those out there who violently struggle. I have achieved some semblance of stability, and I can help others do the same for themselves. I have no “way” but the common-sense alternative to being mired in suffering. It’s not like I figured out any secret.
So, with that amazing sales pitch, I offer my services, as best I can. With all my heart, I’d like to help.
I will have the apartment to myself for about 8 days. Both parentoids are going back to Sacramento for my little sister’s birthday. They will spend time with their industrious, motivated and highly successful alternative offspring. And she’s wealthy, did I mention.
I have no hard feelings, only self-hate over my own sorry lot. My friend is coming over and we’re going to hang out and whatnot. So hopefully I won’t be sitting here alone dwelling on my poop all day long. Not the kinda fun I was hoping to have.
My dad gave me a fat donkey-dick of the chrondo-nuggies, and I have that to last me until they get back. Seems like overkill to me. Substantially more there than I would have the time or consciousness to consume. But, it is like him to over-estimate, as the ever conservative evaluator / decider / patriarch.
I will need to be cautious, with FEWER humans around to reflect back, I need to come here and establish some identity from time to time. I want to come back and write, so that I don’t lose track of me, which has been a huge fucking problem from the get-go.
I tend to become who you want me to be, and then I can’t be, and you leave when I fail at fulfilling our dreams, or, your dreams about what we should have been.
Aw fuck. Look at that. I just wrote that. I’m clearly not in a super-dee-dooper place right now. It’s fuck-ass early and I’m grumped-out.
I’ll write more when I fucking feel like doing something not horrible.
Best result Mitt might get:
Obama: 284
Romney: 254
Best result Obama might get:
Obama: 326
Romney: 212
Either way, President is reelected.
So, When I was 18, and just discovering I had a creative boy inside me, I decided to begin expressing my poetic voice. I wrote, and wrote, and came up with some gems, for their time and place. This one, by far, was my most popular poem of the lot. I read it with the appreciation of the boy I was then, and how much I have changed. Here it is, in it’s unedited glory, In My Tree:
In the place that never sleeps
The youngest lives do crawl and creep
Coming alive with springtime rain
A place without anger or pain
The little ones won’t go, they stay
For all is grand in the forest today
Through the trees they run and cry
In joy and laughter, the days go by
Adventures in the summer heat
The silent footfalls of tiny feet
Leaves crunch under running child
Eyes are wide and feeling wild
Into the creek they run to play
For all is grand in the forest today
Years go by and they come less
Disregarding the soft caress
Of leaf on skin that once held dear
The mind that wanders far from here
The little ones grow big and tall
And almost seem to forget it all
The fun they had in days of youth
The memories that seem so uncouth
More valuable than silver or gold
Cherish them in days of old
Back to the wood the man did come
And to his memories he added some
And he did linger, and wanted to stay
For all was grand in the forest that day
I hate the rush. I fucking hate it. There, I said it. And I find it utterly inexcusable to rush in a game like Age of Empires III, or any other LONG-TERM AGE PROGRESSION type game. Why HAVE the fucking age-up process if you rush in the first age and barley make it to the second one before your foe is economically crippled? Sorry, allow me to illuminate the cause-effect problem here:
Rush implies that you must pester, harass and otherwise micro-manage one to two troops and try and keep your opponent from ever getting started. Kill their resource gathering units. Kill the structures that generate resources, or disable them, or whatever. Keep them from ever getting stated. Win as soon as possible. Hmmm…
It’s like the nerds have all tried to keep their game times as short and similar in form and progression as their sexual encounters. BANG BANG BANG SPLURF. Dead noodle barf. I fucking hate this trend. I hate it. Hate it. HATE IT.
So, I treaty for up to 40 minutes to keep the fucking AI away, and when I can’t, I find out how to trick the AI into leaving me alone through a sneaky exploit. I don’t mm well, I have having to lean on moving and countering (known as “dancing”). It’s not why I play an RTS of the slow-progression genre.
So, if I’m playing Battle for Middle Earth II: Rise of the Witch King, I would be in a game that emphasizes early attacking. But it has no aging. It’s, build a shitty little base, and pound quickly with units. Hold ground with real live units, not towers, turrets and walls. Fight with mming and hero abilities and shit. All battle-line movement and contention, no technological emphasis. Some, but not an EMPHASIS. Why are you playing AOE III if your plan is to wipe out your opponent in under 4 minutes. WHY PLAY THAT GAME? GO PLAY SOMETHING ELSE LOSER. STOP FUCKING WITH MY GENRE.
I contend, that we should lean on the game’s design for how to best maximize the usefulness of the, uh… GAMEPLAY, and of the style that one can express through time and development of unique civilizations. Style is impossible when the objective is “kill them as fast as possible.” Style develops with tech tree choices, civilizational advantages and other factors that make MY style different from YOURS.
I want to FULLY meet you in the field of battle, when we are both cocked back and ready to pull the big fucking trigger. BAAAA BOOOOM! Right? Let’s have a fucking BATTLE Sanchita, I don’t want to kill your fucking villagers and leave you frustrated and bored. What’s the point of PLAYING if it isn’t FUN? Sweaty palm orgasm loser, go back to your basement and stop ruining my fun.
Fuck. I can’t believe I have to even bring this up. But just GO to AOE III Heaven and SEE what the strategies section is all about. Fucking insane. I learned nothing at all. I UNLEARNED useful ideas I already had. Sigh.
This doctrine applies most universally to RTS. Don’t rush. Just don’t. Go learn your game instead.
There is NO DOUBT IN MY MIND that people who are mentally ill, can get better and lead good productive lives. It is within reach, that is an undeniable fact. Why people feel incapable of achieving healthy status is a different matter altogether. It can be done, and it HAS been done many, many times. The only way to achieve a life that makes you feel proud and stable, is to address ALL 3 parts of the mental illness equation:
1. Your neurochemestry MUST be balanced and maintained. This requires REGULAR PSYCHIATRIC CARE. You must see your doctor; you must get treatment at intervals appropriate to the severity of your illness. A doctor, and you, can address new symptoms, change your dosing intervals, and change your medications altogether. If you do not believe meds are necessary, you may be right. For some mentally ill people, you truly may only need meds for a short time, or at all. MOST people will need medications, just like you need glasses or a cast when your arm is broken… It’s no different. My brain does not make enough neurochemical transmitters, specifically Serotonin and Norepinephrine, which help happy good feelings get transferred across neural gaps between transmitters, in my brain. The chemicals, on their own, get taken away and not replaced when my brain transmits a certain kind of signal. With no neurotransmitter there, I have impaired brain function. NO different than your eye being oddly curved, and unable to receive photons correctly into the optic nerve. You need your organs working right, so, make them work right. My meds prevent the Serotonin and Norepinephrine from being USED in the transfer of electric signals across neural gaps. The meds block the REUPTAKE of those neurochemicals, so I always have the right amount of them between neurons. Hence, the physical disability, the literal lack of a chemical in my head, has been addressed. This completes step 1.
2. The brain is, obviously, pretty complex. SO much so that we only kinda understand how it works. Psychopharmacology is primarily experimentation and guesswork. Go read a thing or two about it if you disagree. Go look back as early as the 1950s when they were “asylum-ing” people who had signs of mental illness. We all are the lab-rats of experimental science. Point of this being, that the brain can’t be “fixed” with a chemical supplement alone. You really do need to train your brain to behave, as well. If you want .50 Desert Eagles on each bicep, you should probably pump some serious fucking weight and do it! If you want to have a mind that you can control (for the most part) and good mental awareness (so we can know when symptoms are happening and get help), then you should encourage healthy thinking behaviors regularly. I accomplish this with weekly therapy, and routines and structure that help ME in MY PERSONAL CUSTOMIZED WAY complete the responsibilities of my life, and establish worth / identity. Regular therapy helps me be self-aware, and conscious of my thinking processes. This is good, because I ALREADY KNOW MY BRAIN IS NOT WORKING 100% RIGHT, SO I SHOULD REALLY BE ON TOP OF ANYTHING GOING ON FROM THAT WHOLE AREA. I can build good thinking habits, reinforce positive behaviors, and have a better life, in conjunction with step 1, and finally…
3. You can do 1, and 2, and still fail BECAUSE 3 was never looked at. As a mentally ill person, I can be impressionable and trusting. I don’t know if this is true of anyone else, but I am more vulnerable BECAUSE of my illness. Just wired that way, I guess. I use a dough-and-cookie-cutter metaphor, because it happens to work and makes some sense: my environment, and the people that make up my social network, are things that help define who I am. If I am in a deep depression, and environmental factors contribute to my condition (whether I am aware or not), I will and should find a way to change it. Because, I feel like I am a blob uncooked, emotional, romantic, and susceptible to impression… uh, dough. I’m pliable, easy to change, and I will fit into cookie-cutter molds. My environment is a mold, a mold that I begin to “fill in” to as I spread to the edges of my cookie-cutter boundary. My environment helps shape my reality. IF THAT REALITY IS DEPRESSION and I NEED to get better, steps 1 and 2 will not be enough, unless the negative shape my life had before changes as well. It MUST be a different shaped cookie cutter. MUST! Or, I will return to the same ingredients to the same problems I had when I went into crisis. My life will reinforce negative, rut-like behaviors that are impossible to break free from. A MASSIVE change of environment is required for some, like a hospitalization. I know, that’s what it took for me, to have that mold blown apart, and slowly, replaced with something healthier. Something that would help me establish better boundaries and have a healthy environment that enforces positive behaviors. Drug addicts who try to get clean relapse, because they go back to their friends once they get clean, and all their friends still do drugs, so they go back too. They re-fill the same old mold, because the mold never changed. For this thing to work, you must change your environment.
That’s it. If you can get a handle on that, YOU WILL BE OK. I totally swear. This is foolproof. Totally hard to achieve, mind you, and might be a goal worked at throughout life. All my life I have tried to achieve all 3 of these. I have tried, failed, and STILL KEEP TRYING. My life is worth having. My mind is special, though burdened with great disability. I am amazing and a great, good, moral and loving person. I will not surrender, and NEITHER SHOULD YOU!!! I am willing to be here as a guide, for myself and others. I just want us all to be healthy and happy people. We deserve it, after what we have suffered with, often alone. We deserve better. Let’s go get it?
A collapsing world
Feeling the deep throttling sting,
And the angry hiss
Of total silence.
My brooding–
Inferior synopsis
Biased and sallow.
My words are puke.
I hear it ringing
Angrily
Back to me
Second guesses
Failed conveyances
Turning in the anxious tide
Ever jostling for relevance
Behind my closed eyes.
For a little peace in any season
I’d give up anything but your love
I don’t want to trade just to be happy
That’s only playing anyway
But if I dream about it, it makes me wonder
For every good thing, must you get bad?
But I won’t worry,
’Cause if I’m living on borrowed time I’m just gonna keep on
The way I’m going
Keep on, the way I’m going
For every crime, there’s retribution
And every valley has a mountainside
No, I can’t trade just to be happy
That kind of deal won’t work out right
It ain’t good to stare inside yourself too long
For every true thing there’s one more lie
But I won’t worry ’cause if I’m living on borrowed time
I’ll just try to keep on
The way I’m going
Keep on, the way I’m going
So, here in California, It doesn’t really matter that I vote for president on tomorrow’s coming ballot. I do believe California will cast its 55 Electoral College votes for the Democratic incumbent Barak Obama. This should be no surprise to anyone following politics. Opinions may differ, facts don’t often lie. The question of whether or not he wins the whole thing is up for some debate, but not really. The President knows how the system works, and he will probably win enough states to stay in office. Ohio will go blue, MAYBE Virginia, Wisconsin, Colorado and Nevada. He’ll win on those states.
The discussion I want to have is subject to broad generalizations based on, quite possibly, incomplete contextual examples and other items of “so called” relevance. I doubt most people want to hear someone blather on about their pessimistic political and philosophical pontifications (so tune out now if this is going down the wrong alley already). Lately, with the number of random people finding their way here, I become only slightly apprehensive about sharing all my wacko-ideas. Fuck it, here goes:
So, I guess most American people out there don’t know a shitload of information about our democratic government, how it works, and why things happen the way they do. Since voter turnout is ALWAYS LOW it makes sense to me that most people probably don’t, uh, vote, don’t care, and live lives largely detached from their government, only noticing its boundaries and infringements upon perceived freedoms. Most people have a sense of profound entitlement to their liberty, and their free will (here in the USA at least). This comes from never having a reason to fear your government, because it does not go out of its way to make your life shitty by taking things from you unfairly. If you disagree with that, you are a fucking idiot. Spend 1 day in ANY COUNTRY IN AFRICA and tell me that you don’t have it good in America. Is the government going to come to your tiny village and take all your children and make them into soldiers for a civil guerilla war? Are you infected with a fucking disease that would normally be treated with pills for a week? IS YOUR LIFE EXPECTANCY 65 OR 85? Your nation-hate is unfounded, and comes as a result of your ignorance, not the fault of the government. Only 300 million people live in the United States. There are going to be close to 8 billion people in the world soon. Do the math. How many of them lead awesome lives?
The democratic government of the United States of America, as it exists now, is a crappy slap-dash half-assed fake of what the government was intended to be, and should be. I agree that our government sucks, but is it the worst? Is it worth leaving the country over? FUCK NO. Can it get better here? Hell to the fucking yes it can. It needs to get better here, and fast. However, is electing a new president the ticket to that idea-show? Most people would like to believe that the president is a hugely influential figure, capable of “wielding” the economy in one hand, and the “shield” of our defense in the other? National security and capitalism are the president’s areas of power? Eh? This is only slightly on-track. Common belief about who or what the president(cy) is are often just wrong. People hate Obama because they are conservative or racist. Not because he’s killing America or some shit. Presidents are not the powerful figures we often portray them to be, nor do they have much say over the economy. Capitalism is not a part of government, it is a function of civilian and business trade and commerce. It is REGULATED and monitored by government, but government does not dictate its success or failure. It is, its own thing. Thank Jesus. But the president who terms during a beneficent economy often benefits in popularity, like Bill Clinton, and George Bush’s first term. Obama can’t fix the economy, but he can throw money at it, with congress’ help.
Your government is balanced, so much so that because of party polarization, little is accomplished. It generally does nothing of substance, but generate policy and law. It was NOT designed to impose social guidelines and restrictions on its citizens. Nothing just magically “happens” because the president wants it to. If he wants there to be a law, CONGRESS HAS TO AGREE FIRST. They all have to vote a billion fucking times to make sure it’s full of bullshit and money for everyone involved along the way, and THEN it can go get signed into law. It’s not like he runs the show. He just waves his hand, signs the paper, and goes off to some other important bullshit. We make such a big deal out of our government, but it’s not because of anything they actually can do.
You know all those people who think the government is listening, NSA is the secret government, UFO cover-ups and all that shit. Let me ask you something, there “the moon landing was faked” dude: The government can’t even zip up its own pants, let alone organize a massive cover-up. FUCK, WE LET PEOPLE CREATE A TERRORIST CELL IN OUR COUNTRY, TRAIN HERE, AND FLY OUR PLANES INTO OUR OWN SHIT TO SHOW US HOW “NOT TOGETHER” WE ARE. You think they are all “oh, we got people everywhere, listening to all your inane comments you make to your friends on the phone, because we’re the fucking GOVERNMENT man! Muahahaha!” Who’s paying these people? Sadly, my friend, if you work, YOU ARE.
The government has fattened on the ever expanding principle of more people = more tax dollars coming in. It’s not getting better, bureaucracy is so extensive and insane that NO ONE PART OF THE SYSTEM HAS ANY IDEA WHAT THE OTHER PART IS DOING at this point. They could even be dealing with the same issue, and have no idea. FUCK PEOPLE WAKE UP! Can the DMV transfer your information over to the SSA with a click, to the FBI? Do they have a linked network? Is it ever a “breeze” to do anything related to the government? How easy is it to get paperwork filed with a government agency or office? If they were really on top of their shit, wouldn’t there just be ONE FUCKING PLACE YOU GO, CALLED “GOVERNMENTLAND” AND YOU GIVE THOSE FUCKING GUYS YOUR INFORMATION, AND THEY CHANGE ALL THE IMPORTANT SHIT CONNECTED TO YOUR LIFE IN ONE GO? Instead, we have a separate bureaucracy for every tit-elbow pickle-fuck agency we can come up with to spend tax money on. The system gets fatter, the people stay busy, the thing was rolling along great until we started to have so many fucking people that a whole bunch of them are sitting around and can’t find anything to do.
We think they are after us because we are always challenging authority, as human animals. WE DON’T LIKE TO BE DOMINATED. WE DON’T LIKE THE OTHER ANIMAL DOMINATING ON US. We can’t challenge authority if the authority is inept and slobbering all over itself in a corner somewhere. WHO THE FUCK IS AFRAID OF THAT? If we make them scary, then we can fear them again. THEN it’s unfair that the big animal stands on us and now we can complain about how bad it is booooo fucking hoooooo.
When you think about government, think how little your vote will matter. Things are so far out of the system’s control, that no act of the system can internally repair it. It will collapse from the inside, due to a great sum of need by a level of depraved degenerates (myself included) accumulating on the bottom rungs of society. We have tried to manage the experiment with civility, and it has utterly failed and resulted in a massive enabling of people satisfied with suckling from the teat for all eternity. It won’t change because Captain Mormon Underpants is elected, or if the Antichrist is allowed to continue to reign over all life.
Just understand it. You’re not going to change it. I will still go vote, because I like to, and I know it really means nothing, but eh, at least I can vote down some California propositions. Fuck, we’re so dumb for allowing people to propose shit and vote it into law. Yeah, argue? Look at California, the world’s 8th largest economy, utterly falling apart, with cities going BANKRUPT right and left. Thanks citizens, for all your flabbergasting contributions.
GO vote. Go be a part of your government. But don’t be an idiot. Just be silent, aware and responsible. Let the monkeys beat each other to death over the next great watering hole. I’ll see you later, I’ve discovered the evolutionary ladder, and am intent on climbing it.
Hi blog.
I am going to have a good week, this week. I am going to accomplish something significant, every day if I can. Barring any sort of relapse, I will try my best to be active, healthy and learn something new, every day. I will re-enforce my sense of self, and engage my brain in things it enjoys doing. I will breathe fresh air, and smile at someone totally unknown to me. I will be strong, proud and full of life, because I deserve to feel good.
I am going to have a good week this week.
I hope you do as well
I’m like a 7 overall today. Might just be the coffee though… =(
Scarf Bling was the name of our Sacramento traveling jewelery business… and lately, it feels like it’s been born again here in San Diego. In our little apartment. My Moo has been POUNDING OUT the Christmas jewelery. with her stash of ONE ENTIRE COAT CLOSET FULL of beads, wire and jewelery accessories, she basically has become a production facility sitting in our living room. Between her drawings (which are EXCEPTIONAL) and her jewelery craze, I’m about ready to go activate that etsy page all over again and start selling our stuff again.
Though, all the natural stone jewelery is gone now. Most of it. We still have the stones though!
Quite possibly going 0 – 2 this week, but really hoping for 1 – 1. I’d like to hold first in Li’l Y, but that might be coming to an end as well, sadly. I hope I still make the playoffs. Phil thinks I will. I have, again, doubts.
Bailey league is anyone’s at this point.
Wish me luck. Randall Cobb, Marshawn Lynch and Pierre Thomas, be productive.
Unlike most “games” where the object is more often, point, shoot, medpack, run, lever, door, shoot… I prefer a style of game-play that FULLY ENGAGES me on multiple levels, with keen multitasking requirements as well as options that allow for stylistic expression. These are the requirements for any “up to snuff” Real Time Strategy game.
PC RTS has a great and very well-established history. For me, it begins with perhaps one of the greatest RTS games ever released: Total Annihilation. 1996 was a good year for the RTS genre, and it grew pretty exponentially from that point forward. Once in the mainstream, however, complexity and intricacy began to rapidly drop off, because most people are actually too fucking dumb to handle the mental requirements of an RTS. A real RTS, one that has lots of buttons and clicky things, will enable a much more capable person to task SEVERAL different projects at once. From building, unit production and then fully upgrading economic and military technology. THEN you actually have to go out there, fight, counter, MM your units, and of course, win.
It’s not for an idiot, clearly. You think and act fast, or you die and don’t have any fun, as I’m sure the initial customer complaints back at Cavedog Entertainment read…
RTS games make you think, and in a world of “if I click the mouse this dude will explode into bloody chunks” sort of games (while these have their place, even in my world, they are NOT mentally constructive, so use at your own risk), it’s no wonder NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT.
I rotate between 3 – 4 RTS games a year. Usually the same 4 cycling through, sometimes another one pops in there. I’m fucking picky, ok? When I get tired of one, I install the other and play that until my eyeballs bleed out. I usually mod said game with the latest greatest end-user fan patch, which typically adds some “fuck yeah dude!” to an older game.
Current Rankings
1. Dawn of War: Soulstorm
2. Age of Empires III: The Asian Dynasties
3. Battle for Middle Earth II: Rise of the Witch King
4. Total Annihilation (CC and BT)
5. Supreme Commander: Forged Alliance
6. Star Craft: Brood War
I’m so small a market, I might actually be the only person in it.
So, every year, out tiny little low-budget family has to come up with a creative idea about what to give each other for Christmas. Since we po, it’s usually a crafty type thing, and the last couple of years, we’ve taken it a step further. We “upped” the standard… gifts became more complex, better, stronger, faster… until…
It has become a serious competition. We have established the tradition of the annual “CD Compilation Game” which has a changing identity as the years have gone on. Let me explain, rules:
Pretty simple. First year, we did 2 each, a “personal portrait” CD (Which Daddo won hands down), and then a Best Rock Compilation EVAR. I do believe Moo won that one. The next year, we each had to target only songs from a decade of our choosing. I took the 70s, went Disco, and blew the roof off the house with a hands-down win.
So the score is even. This year’s theme is a killer: ONLY songs that have appeared on an OFFICIAL movie soundtrack. So, naturally, there’s a shit-ton of movie-music to dig through, but I went a slightly different way with my idea. I incorporated a narrative into my song selection. A very appropriate one, at that. I am hoping that this playlist kicks the shit out of my parent’s pitiful Christmas CD offerings. I want to win, fuck giving gifts. I want a W.
So, without further ado, here is my ROUGH draft of the playlist, which I imagine will need to be a final somewhere around thanksgiving.
BiPolar Beebops
The Big Rock Candy Mountains – Harry McClintock – O Brother Where Art Thou
Somebody To Love – Jefferson Airplane – Apollo 13
On The Road To Find Out – Cat Stevens – Harold and Maude
Holiday – Madonna – The Wedding Singer
Main Titles – Danny Elfman – Beetlejuice
I Just Can’t Get Enough – Depeche Mode – The Wedding Singer
The Entertainer (Orchestra Version) – Marvin Hamlisch – The Sting
The One & Only – Chesney Hawkes – Doc Hollywood
Cheer Down – George Harrison – Lethal Weapon 2
You Make My Dreams – Hall & Oates – The Wedding Singer
Son Of A Preacher Man – Dusty Springfield – Pulp Fiction
If I Can’t Have You – Yyvonne Elliman – Saturday Night Fever
Kissing You – Des’ree – Romeo + Juliet
What Would Brian Boitano Do? – Matt Stone and Trey Parker – South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut
Scarborough Fair/Canticle – Simon and Garfunkel – The Graduate
Du Hast – Ramstein – The Matrix
Top Gun Anthem – Harold Faltermeyer & Steve Stevens – Top Gun
I’ll Fly Away – Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch – O Brother Where Art Thou?
Tequila – The Champs – The Sandlot
Footloose – Kenny Loggins – Footloose
What Would Brian Boitano Do? Pt. II – D.V.D.A – South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut
72 minutes on the nose
I WILL WIN THIS BITCH
And the core truth of it is, that I’m too fucked up a person to hold you here. You want to fly, and I will always be tied to the ground. So go fly away.
Is this depression working it’s will through me? Or is mental illness such a fucking impairment that you can’t see past it, to the core of the love-squishy I am on the inside? If you’d be strong and hold me, and comfort me when my planet explodes, we could make it. We can do it, together, we can help each other be strong…
I just wish you weren’t so scared of me and my illness… instead. I wish, I wish…
I could do this all day, but my palm is getting tired of being repeatedly pounded into my forehead.
Numerical check in (all across the board) this morning is a 4 and sinking fast.
I shouldn’t have gone and looked through my pictures. Now I’m feeling so lonely. I miss them. I wish they still loved me, as much as I still pine for their affections. What a fucking loser I am.
One night…
I dreamed I was in a plane, strapped into a sideways-facing harness inside the inner fuselage of a C-130 military aircraft (to be exact). We were flying in a huge cargo-carrying airplane, with four big big propeller engines on the wings, and this big metal structure that made up the skeleton. And it was so fucking noisy, and windy, and very real. My Dad, my Uncle Paul, and their boss Jackson were all in the cockpit area, though no one was sitting in the pilot’s seat, I then noticed.
The nose of the plane began to pitch down, and then the engine noise stopped. There was nothing but the sound of the wind through the massive aircraft. Because the plane was crashing.
They were arguing, shouting, panicking. They grabbed at controls, as the plane pitched into a steep dive towards the ground below.
The ground below.
It was my valley, my childhood home, it had all the little roads and Poppler trees next to our driveway. I saw it down there, a little greenish dot, out of the cockpit windshield. getting larger every second. I saw the ground getting closer, and feeling myself strapped in, no where to go, nothing I can do.
I was at peace with the realization that I was about to die.
I watched them panic, then it was happening. They were afraid. They knew it too. We were all going to die now.
The bulkheads from the nose of the plane forward compressed rapidly as the energy of our decent crumpled the aircraft against the ground within a fraction of a second. I watched the metal come at me, the whole thing, jagged hunks of fractured plane, it all came right at me, and slammed into me, and for a split second, there was a recognition that my body was being smashed, blown apart, destroyed.
I felt it, PAIN, then, I was dead.
There was darkness. But I still had an essence. Something of me existed beyond the total destruction of my body.
I heard a noise.
It was the sound of a huge sum of voices, all harmonizing a buzzing or humming sort of note together.
And it was getting louder.
And coming from beneath me
And headed towards my head
And as it got closer
I felt it start to take me over.
I awoke gasping for breath, in a torrential sweat, as though I had just been running. To this day, I have no explanation, and have never had another dream like it.
I totally am an asshat. But not as much as I used to be. I was so fucking judgmental, I basically alienated myself from anyone with an alternative flavor. Instead of a world of appreciative variety, I was left castigating what huddled transient friends remained. I’m sniffing through the garbage, looking for something redeeming in this festival of me being a shithead to everyone.
Oh wait, I… I mean, I remember… something about, uh…
OH THAT’S RIGHT, I’M FUCKING MENTALLY ILL AND BASICALLY A SOCIAL RETARD. PLEASE EXCEPT THIS RATIONALE FOR ALL INSANE BEHAVIOR DEMONSTRATED BY ME. UM, EVER.
Remember when I said life was “a flaming shit pile with flaming flies encircling it” in 8th grade and I never combed my hair? Yeah, depression working through me as a fucking kid. A KID. Has this disease no shame?? OF course not, it’s a defective genetic sequence somewhere encoded into every cell in my body. Wewt.
I’m on the path towards taking a shower, so I get all this shit and ass off my head. I’ll keep you posted.
There dwindle
Sticks with—
bricks!
And tinder kings queens
Knock ruckles
Dusts a fuss
Claw hides hid
Welcome Saturday pinch-trees–
and a covey of flower pollen pollens
Dusts on the rust
Time twinkled twigs
All nooked—
into sandy sand sand
All day long
lizards lick–
their eye.
A lot of history here, but most of it good. I’m looking to get with friends, like minded, and working together to get better. That’s the eventual hope here. Just trying to start the “right” conversation, and build from there.
Dude, throw me a bone here. I’m clearly not “in the loop” and frankly, I don’t think you’d want me to be. In the past, I’ve been more judgmental then understanding. I totally get that. Fuck, I wouldn’t want ME in MY inner circle. I’M A FUCKING ASS HAT, DUDE. At least I know it though. I know it, and try to avoid being a bipedal shitoid as much as possible.
In a round about way, I’m attempting to express that I’m not as unfriendly as I used to be, and I will listen and understand whatever vomit-barf thing is exploding in your life. I will listen and understand, and that’s about it. I really will not give advice, as I realize that I am NO ONE WORTHY OF DISPENSING ADVICE TO ANYONE, as well as the fact that I just can’t fix anyone’s poop but my own. Hey, took me 4 million years to figure this out. I’m not proud to say.
I’m also pretty straight-up. You know ’tis true. I don’t masquerade, lie or deceive. I get right the fuck to it, and blurt out the horrible stark truth regardless of repercussion or implication. It’s part of my ‘problem’ apparently. No filter. So, if you need a “no filter” person who responds, if needed, but mostly just takes it all in, let me know. Anchor in the real, logical horrible truth world place thing. That’s written right on my WalMart name-tag. Right under K A N D I E.
See that? See my stripper name? Like it? I really do… and it’s spelled all white trash too! Aren’t I great?
Seriously, I can do that. Don’t make me out to be any more than that. I’m still a disabled person, and can’t be trusted like a regular human can. I know what I can be, and what I can’t be, so there you go. Take it or ignore it, do as you please capitan pantalones azules.
I will have a scone with my tea!
OH NO! I’M ALLERGIC TO BLUE BERRIES YOU FOOL!!!
AAAAAAKKKaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh……………
(this message was finished by a “fancy typing Moose” as the author of the original message has been sacked)
EEEEAAAWWWWWWW EEEEEAAAAAWWWWWW AGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA
(The writers of that last parenthetical note have also been sacked)
(This message was put together at the last minute and with great expense)
Love you like you were my little brother
Drop me a beep sometime
Your old friend Westin
I’m an opened can of worms.
I generally disagree with this feeling. It’s a perpetual disgruntlement. I FEEL the smile on my face trying to look like a smile but right behind it is a sob abut to leak out of my lips which are now wrinkling. I choke, swallow, and move the fuck on. I hear music, and my heart explodes into four trillion shards of agony, and I remember things I thought I had forgotten. Feelings and things I wish I was still all about. Emotions that flowed into each other, like multicolored scarves blowing in the wind. It hurts to be so alone inside your head, experiencing rare moments of TCH induced clarity. The way is otherwise shut.
I have much to regret, but am I a fucking retard? Not really. I make mistakes like any other idiot. I’m maybe 1/1000 people in the world who are just self-aware enough to cause themselves and others a great deal of trouble. I don’t want the burden anymore, in fact, I’d like to start the whole experiment over and have one or the other reconsider.
I won’t reproduce. I think it’s only fair that I do my part to fight it. It’s a genetic sequence, my disorder is… if you get her pregnant, and your kid has bipolar, congratulations, you’ve spread it to the next line of humans to walk the earth after you go away. And they, by example, and so on.
I will not. Neither should you, if you fucking care about how much suffering you are likely to unintentionally inflict upon that person via the act of creating them.
God damn, fuck me in the ass. I wish I was normal like you. Whoever you are, you non-existent “normal” person. I wish I had your BRAIN. GIVE IT TO ME. I want your neurochemicals. I want to be able to think like I used to, all the time, spouting brilliance. I was Jesus back then, in memory-land.
Seriously, some clarity, on a regular basis, so I can accomplish a SERIES of tasks would be super. I don’t have lofty expectations, I just want to be a good man who works and feels proud of himself. I’m not even a shadow of that idea right now. Which is fucked. But I’m trying, and Robert says that’s all I can do.
I need to logic through this idea, so bear with me. I am, by my own admission, not a particularly good judge of what is good for me and my life. I tend to make mistakes when left without guidance. This is especially important as it relates to emotionally charged situations. So, if I am fully aware of my inherent disadvantage in objectivity on the subject of me, I should not hold much opinion of my self-evaluations. Well, by that I mean to infer that I should not let a self-evaluation dictate action or mood, because I am not a good judge of things.
If that is true, then why do I listen to self-criticism, but not self-praise? Why do I seem to enjoy pounding myself into the dirt, instead of raising myself up?
I really just need the ability to see things a different way. Right now, I am utterly bogged down in the litany of mistakes I have conducted in my short time on Earth. I refuse to let them go, and instead, beat myself to death with them, until I am sad and afraid and crying.
“Why are you doing that? I hate that! I HATE IT!”
Thanks Zach. It’s true. I do hate that evaluative process… apparently not enough to change it. I don’t believe in myself. Fundamentally, I think I have little passing value, which makes me uninteresting and unappealing.
There seems to be no cure for loneliness other than a return to normalcy, or a re-integration into mainstream society. This is something I have struggled to achieve, and failed at on each attempt. Individuality and stability seem to be two things headed in opposite directions, once I have a rope on them both.
My epiphany didn’t help. It just made me aware of something I’m not going to change. I really fucking hate myself. And I don’t see why it should be different.
When I look in the mirror, I see a complex organism; built from a defective genetic sequence, accidentally impaired and stumbling through existence feeding and shitting and accomplishing nothing but survival. An organism exists, but does not strive beyond itself. And so I try and fail, which makes me, more or less, no one. I see an organism. I see no one I really know anymore.
Needing a real life example of an internal dichotomy? Give us a call, we’ll be here. Epic fail on the “logic through this” idea.
Neurochemically Challenged 
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