Thursday, July 23, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 14

As part of my recovery plan last year after my episode I moved home to try to figure everything out. It was late summer and at this point my days consisted of me getting up at the crack of 10 or 11 in the morning (even then it was a process to drag my butt out of bed). Taking my 6 pills to become “normal” then watching a couple hours of TV, passing out on the couch for a another hour or so. Eating dinner then taking another 6 pills to maintain my mood that I was in (comatose basically) and passing out an hour or so later. All in all I was only getting around 15 hours of sleep a day and being the epitome of unproductive. To try and counter this I started working at my college job again of sealing blacktops (nothing too serious but none the less a step), during lunches we use to play the best game and I’m bringing it to you now (thank me later); it’s the birthday game.

Here’s how it works, I’ll go ahead and list a number of celebrities/famous peeps whose birthday is today and you must try to guess their ages (*the answer key is at the bottom, but no cheating because you’re only cheating yourself). Here we go

  1. Nomar Garciaparra
  2. Monica Lewinsky
  3. Woody Harrelson
  4. Eriq La Salle
  5. Philip Seymour Hoffman
  6. Gary Payton
  7. Daniel Radcliff
  8. Don Imus
  9. Slash
  10. My Mom

Yes today is the birthday of my Mom and I wanted to do something really cool and original for her. Now over the past few months my parental units have sort of caught up to the 21st century and began using their phone for more than just talking, yes texting (how freaked out are you when you get a text from your parents for the first time?). In any case since my Mom has catapulted herself into new technology I decided I was going to send her a birthday text (as I do with many of my friends I texted the opening lyrics to 50 cents “In Da Club”, she didn’t get it). I was in quite a dilemma and had to act fast on my feet so I booked it over to Target and started to frantically look over the b-day cards for that perfect one (you know the one someone else wrote but just encompasses exactly what you were thinking so thereby allowing you to put as little as thought possible into the card) and I found it. I knew how to take pictures of the front , inside and back (just to show her it was from Hallmark, they always check you know) of the card and send that over, but I had no idea how to record the song playing and send that over, new plan.

Currently my Mom does not know I’m writing this blog due to the fact I haven’t told her (simple enough). I’m not sure the exact reason why I haven’t but I think I was trying to protect her in some weird way. I really can’t imagine what my family (both blood and friends) are going through trying to figure BMD out with me but I think I have a little idea for my Mom. We haven’t been the most emotional family in the world, growing up with two brothers in the sticks doesn’t really equate to sharing our feelings every night at dinner (that time was spent making fun of each other). So when I got diagnosed with BMD it definitely turned into a learning curve. I would imagine it’s kind of like a Pee-Wee football coach waking up one day to read in the paper that he’s the new head football coach for a Professional Football team. Sure the coach knows football but he’s probably overwhelmed and what not because he’s not at the level or degree that’s usually needed to run a professional team (and for that matter he didn’t even apply for the job). But there’s one thing I got from my Mom that I know will get us through this just fine, her will. My Mom is the strongest woman I know and there’s no way we all can’t handle this with her. I just wanted to say thanks Mom for that and don’t worry about me I’m going to be OK.

Happy Birthday

(BTW I did send my Mom the link to this blog so she can read it now)

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

*1.) 36 (I’m still jealous of him for Mia Hamm) 2.) 36 (I’m still jealous of her for Bill Clinton) 3.) 48 4.) 47 (Just let your sooooouuuuul glow) 5.) 42 6.) 41 (Top 5 NBA nicknames ever) 7.) 20 8.) 69 9.) 44 (My Mom shares a b-day with the Guitar Hero Slash, too bad she has no idea who he is) 10.) (Like there’s any chance in hell I’m telling you that, I like my life and don’t want it to end)

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 13

I’m not sure about other people but there are essentially two times that I ever have the desire to cut a rug, bring the funk, or otherwise showcase (embarrass myself) my skills of dance. The first of these two usually has slim to no consequences after said demonstration of dance moves; when I’m totally alone. Now the majority of the times when I think I’m alone the chances are I’m basically correct on that assumption but there is always at least one exception to the rule (or two for me). The first happened my freshman year in college when I had just transferred from Marietta College up to Wittenberg for a multitude of reasons that have no relevance to this story so we’ll tuck those away for a rainy day. In any case I transferred mid-year and had only been at Witt for about a week and really didn’t know many people aside from the ones in my classes. And for that matter really didn’t know them that well so like any normal NKOTB (new kid on the block) you want to make a good first impression. I was on my way back down to Marietta the first weekend of the semester to grab some things I had left when I came to the realization that I was alone in the car and began bringing my funk (via Nelly’s “Luven Me”, interesting song choice I know). I was dominating that front seat with my moves for a good five minutes or so when I looked over at the car next to me at the stoplight, busted. Laughing hysterically at me was a very attractive girl from my Psychology class (awesome first impression).

The second exception to this rule would undoubtedly have to be when I was in my manic episode last year and made a trip out to San Jose. During this time in late February I was about a month away or so from moving from Denver to San Jose for a new job position and therefore needed to find a place to live and what not in San Jose. I took a flight out there (during which my episode really kicked in at DIA and I was somewhat convinced that I was in the Emerald City, very cool and very freaky at the same time) and stayed with a couple of friends while there. My flight left around 8 at night on Sunday to go back to Denver so I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the flight and got to the airport roughly nine hours prior to the flight (I’m totally blaming mania for that one). During my entire day in the San Jose Airport there were some interesting things going on in my head (none that really apply to this entry but I’m sure we’ll soon enough discuss them) and one of those feelings was of oneness or wholeness or some sort of connectivity with everything. To express this feeling I luckily was able to find an observation deck located outside the airport attached to the terminal that I could go to dance (most people use it to watch the planes fly in but where’s the fun in that?). Needless to say I spent a good hour or so (not too sure how long as timelessness sort of set in again) busting moves on the top of the observation deck. Now no one was around so I felt totally comfortable with my display of random body movement and convulsions known as dance moves. However I’m sure the video surveillance tape of me dancing on the observation deck is a cult classic at the airport.

Ok so the other times that I feel like dancing are when I am three sheets (great show BTW) to the wind. When I’m at the point in the night where I forget my name, pretty good chance I’m on the dance floor mopping up fools (in a matter of speaking). Other than almost getting into fights (with groups of girls, big of me I know) I can not recall a night when I ended up in a dance-off or a time when I’m jamming out in my car that wasn’t fun. The only times I feel awkward or embarrassed is when I get caught, or better known as the instant when my comfort level is suddenly dropped due to my perception that I think someone else really cares about what I’m doing. At this point I’m sure they more than likely can only conceive that what I’m doing has to be some tribal ceremony that I’m trying to perform (otherwise known as dancing). I know it really shouldn’t matter if I look like a fool to someone else, because why should I care? But I think that’s a result of just being human, we care what our peers think because we are part of them; it’s like a form of connection. So by being part of this connection I shouldn’t worry about the people standing on the wall or in the car next to me, but the ones challenging me to my next dance-off. I’m working on being myself and I think a part of that is not putting so much weight on what other people think of me, if I can do that I might never stop dancing (once again, good for me and even better for humanity).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 12

Right now my life is pretty hectic so I was only able to catch around 4 or so hours of the Jimmy V charity event on all the ESPN networks yesterday. Other than being insanely (no pun intended) jealous of the guy who had the winning bid for the ESPN College Football GameDay on Campus Experience (my reasons for this can be boiled down to 2 simplistic action items I would perform; 1.) When you get to deliver the mascot head to Corso I would definitely throw a Heisman pose/hand into Desmond’s face during the interaction and 2.) When you get the chance to meet with the guys during the morning production meeting I would demand that during the picks they must also pick their favorite sign in the crowd, it’s only fair for those people who worked hard on insulting the opponent’s city/school/family/and girlfriends) I was able to take something of value away from my oxymoronic vegetative state of watching radio on TV. This of course is the following quote from Jimmy V:

"To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."

After hearing this quote I sat in contemplation for awhile and reflected on the meaning behind what Jimmy was conveying here. After this deliberation I decided to try a social experiment on myself (it’s not like I’m doing much else right now) and while I wasn’t going for the homerun in the bottom of the 9th with two outs to win the game and do this for an entire week I figured one day of doing all three couldn’t be too tough. After going through my day following these words of wisdom I could determine if I had experienced something special (my Mom always said I was special, kind of ironic thinking about everything now). Next I pulled my best impersonation of Earl Hickey and started a list: 1. Laugh 2. Think 3. Cry. Then after I spell checked my list I realized that I had already completed number 2 so I crossed it off my list (2. Think, ok the blog doesn't allow you to use the strikethrough function on words so I'm using italics, not as cool but it's not my fault), very nice.

Now my next to do for the day was to cry or laugh, two things I’ve perfected since my episode so this should be a piece of giant cookie (I should clarify, I’m not a huge fan of cake so we always had giant cookies for my birthday growing up, hence the piece of giant cookie reference). At this point AMC was running “History of the World: Part I” so a laugh was pretty much guaranteed at this point. While I did giggle slash cackle slash chuckle slash snicker I really didn’t whole heartily laugh like I think Jimmy was referring to so I couldn’t strikethrough (italicize) that off my list. At this point in the evening I needed to jump into the shower as I was getting ready to venture down to the KY for some elegant riverfront dinning (ok it was Hooters but they have really good burgers). During my shower routine I enjoy listening to some tunes and one of the songs that randomly played was Ryan Adams' “Rescue Blues” (for some reason since my episode I’m a sucker for this song and needless to say 3. Cry).

It was nearing the end of the night and I hadn’t laughed yet and I was becoming a little bit concerned. I sat down at J.B. Fins totally disgusted with myself as I had been so close to completing my experiment but will undoubtedly fall short, and the culprit was laughter (the last time I checked humor was in the title of this blog, so pathetic). When you’re lower than low doesn’t it always seem like that’s when it all comes together. On stage Kevin Fox said these few words:

“So this song is about me in high school not being able to get laid, it’s called Doesn’t Do It.”

I instantly started to crack up and it continued through the entire song (1. Laugh). Jimmy V was right, I really hadn’t done anything throughout the day but it was definitely a full day.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 11

There are only two things that I fear in this world and one is the spinning carnival rides at the county fair (the other is Carnies, small hands, smell like cabbage). You are probably thinking to yourself right now, yeah, who doesn’t fear Carnies? But what’s up with the spinning carnival rides, those things rock! Well for your information I fear those rides because I always seem to boot after my turn on them, pretty embarrassing (well as embarrassed as one can get on the midway of the Clark County Fair at least). In any accord I came to the realization today that I am just a little kid stuck in a grown up’s body.

I spent the majority of my day today at one of my favorite childhood locations, King’s Island. Now while my day didn’t start out the greatest (we had to park in Drop Tower 39, what happened to Scrappy Doo 12?) the day was none the less radical (yeah that’s a term from my childhood, pretty tubular huh?). I was a bit upset that the Smurf’s ride is no longer in existence but my disappointment soon faded as I concentrated on my model shoot via the coasters' cameras (the double point with mouth open on the Diamondback, the double rock out fists with tongue out on the Vortex, the pondering in the opposite direction shot on the Beast, and the always classic double arm flex on the Diamondback, yeah we rode that one a few times as it’s wicked cool). I’m not gonna lie, being a kid was totally boss.

For some reason during my episode last year I reverted back to my childhood for certain portions of time. I became obsessed with video games again (Guitar Hero dominated my life) and I’m the furthest thing from a gamer you can find (aside from California Games, I would still binge drink all night on Hi-C Ecto Cooler with that incredible Nintedo masterpiece). I also stocked my fridge and freezer with all my classic childhood food. My favorite stockpiled food would have to be Eggo’s Blueberry waffles, my Dad use to create these unbelievably good Eggo breakfasts on Saturday mornings as my brothers and I “rotted” our brains on cartoons. Speaking of those cartoons (of which I’m still obsessed with) I came out of my episode with a complete file dedicated to pictures of Foghorn Leghorn (my apologies for the delay as I just spent the last 20 minutes watching Foghorn Leghorn cartoons and they are still classic).

That’s just one of the many really bizarre experiences/random past obsessions that resurfaced in my life during my episode. I mean I hadn’t had any desire to play, let alone purchase any game system since I was in middle school but I know I bought an Xbox 360 and played the crap out of it during those couple of months in Denver. I hadn’t watched a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon since the late 80’s and I suddenly couldn’t get enough of them. My diet (well when I ate, I managed to lose about 20 lbs in the episode, I’m thinking of marketing this plan and calling it “Lose inches from your waistline, while only partially losing your mind”, I know it needs work but I think there’s something there) consisted of all my childhood favorites of which I didn’t even know they still sold in stores. While these may totally seem off the wall they are a big part of who I am and I think I kind of forgot about them and in the process lost who I was. It’s difficult for me to call BMD a disease or illness when I really think it’s played a big part in helping me find myself again. Even if that person is a theme park junky with an addiction to 1950 era cartoons that yearns for the taste of Ecto Cooler out of the tin can, basically a big kid.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 10

Dearest Liquor,

This is quite possibly the toughest letter I’ve ever had to write (although I’m pretty sure this is only my second letter ever written, minus pen pals, and the previous one was to Jamie Spears, what was with me and the Spears sisters during my episode? Jeez) so please bare with me as I make may way through this. First off I want to say it’s me and not you, now I know this is such a common excuse to end a relationship but in this case it’s absolutely true. You know what, now that I’ve thought about that last statement for a minute I know you deserve the truth and I should be nothing but honest to you, so it is you and this is all completely your fault. But don’t be too hard on yourself; we did have some good times together.

I can still recall our first date like it was yesterday, I was a young boy looking for adventure and fun and you came into my life in the form of MD 20/20 (grape of course) ready to open my eyes to endless pleasures. We spent the night cruising around the back farm roads just holding hands (well I was holding the bottle, but same difference) and looking at the stars. I should have known that night that this would never work but it felt so right, even during the final four hours of being passed out in the back of my best friend’s car as you wrecked havoc to my system (ahhh memories). After that night it seemed like we just took off with no desire to look back, we spent weekends together and you could always pick me up when I was feeling down. No matter what was going on in my life it seemed like you were always there to pick me up (and eventually lay me down beside the toilet, but beggars can’t be choosers).

Now while our time together was great you know what you do to me now. Let’s take for example last Sunday and Monday when you sent me into a debacle of a manic state. Sure I heart doing jager bombs with the rest of them and I know you have solid relationships with a majority of my friends but I somehow doubt that you send them on the same crazy ride as you do to me now. I know I may sound a little bit like a hypocrite because we’ve talked about how mania can be enjoyable at times, but that’s when I’m in control (or as close to control as I can be, please stop judging me). After a night with you the next day is just a little too much out of control for me and I deserve better. I know you’re going to be fine and will no doubtedly find someone else real soon (in fact I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that at one time there is always around 5% of people drunk around the world) so you’ve more than likely already moved on.

Even if this is the fact I wanted to say thank you for the great times we had together and give you some things as tokens of my appreciation. The first is a haiku of my feelings:

You’ve shown me beauty
And took it right back away
It was a fun ride

Ok maybe that poem doesn’t really illustrate my feelings so I’ll go ahead and dedicate this video that I think pretty much nails it.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Monday, July 6, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 9

Her name is Willett and she sits alone in the corner of the room with a blanket around her frail body and a lifeless gaze in her eyes. I’ve never quite seen someone who has totally given up until now and it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a crazy world that she will put a real smile on my face, one that I haven’t had for a long time.

It’s 8:00 am and breakfast is being served (or I should say you grab the tray with your name on it, I’m still befuddled how my name is there because I don’t recall ordering anything) and I am suddenly sent back to junior high at lunchtime when your social livelihood depends on your next choice, where to sit. There about 10 tables each with a number of people sitting at them talking and enjoying their time together, then I spot Willett. She sits alone at the corner table with a look of total distrust and paranoia. I wish I could say I chose to sit with Willett because I knew somehow I was suppose to or that I could see she needed help. But the truth of the matter is I didn’t recognize one single person there aside from Willett and there weren’t many seats open, so I sat down.

Willett and I shared the distinct honor of both being admitted to the suicide watch hall of the psych ward. I had been admitted a couple days prior and the day before spent the majority of my time sleeping (thanks to the tranquilizers and I imagine the average of 3 hours of sleep a night I had been getting for the past couple of weeks, thanks mania). Now for those of you who haven’t had the opportunity to spend some time in a suicide watch room it’s kind of like a night at a Sandals resort room. The only differences are that you don’t have a view of the ocean, instead it’s a brick building about 3 feet away. The King size bed with soft linens and an undeniable abundance of pillows is exchanged for a single bed with one sheet, pillow case less pillow, and it’s bolted to the tiled floor. The hand carved cabinets are no where to be found, your clothes are just thrown about the floor. Also the whirlpool tub is replaced with a seat less toilet (stay classy Porter Hospital). Oh yeah one more thing, the intimate privacy you so desire at Sandals, let’s go ahead and put a camera right on you all the time (perfect if someone is paranoid they are being watched). Willett’s room was a few down from mine and I had passed her from time to time when I managed to awake from my hibernation to grab a drink or what not, solid connection I know.

Willett doesn’t say much, it’s as if she’s so weak and tired that she can barely muster up enough energy to lift the fork to her mouth. I try to make small talk but it goes with no avail, she’s terrified of me, of everyone and everything. She gets up and walks away and I sit there and think to myself even with the total chaos that has been in my life for the past few weeks and continuing to that day I was still happy to be alive and wanted to continue to live, I’m not sure Willett could say the same thing. It’s hard to imagine what events occurred in her (or anyone else’s for that matter) life to totally crush someone to the point that they have given up.

Over the next few days Willett and I eat together and her defenses come down a little (it was probably the milk I gave her every breakfast) she begins to actually talk to me a little but nothing huge. I have no idea where she is from, why she is here, what has happened to her to get here to this point of her life and I’m not sure I really wanted to, I’m not sure I could handle it. Over the next few days I could slowly see the life coming back into her eyes. One morning I wake up and am walking down to the shower when I see Willett dancing around the halls. I had to take a double take because this could not be the same woman that could barely feed herself a few mornings ago. It seems one of her friends had brought her a disc man and a cd, needless to say she liked it. The next day I stood by and watched Willett dance out the doors with her headphones, smile on her face, and life back in her eyes.

I smile and think to myself, if she can get through this there’s no reason I can’t. I finally smile.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 8

It’s 1 am Thursday morning (that’s Wednesday night for you time challenged peeps, don’t feel bad, I’m in the same boat with ya) and I’m standing beside a guy dressed like a bear dancing on a bar with a beer in my hand and a buzz in my head. There are so many things that are not right with this situation that I don’t really know where to start; the guy dressed like a bear would probably be the best place. I’m looking around and decide it’s time to leave, I know I’m going to pay for this tomorrow.

Just three hours prior to the dancing bear incident I was sitting in bed knowing I wasn’t going to do anything, it wasn’t worth it. I’m not saying that going out in the Nasty isn’t a good time but I’ve learned that whenever I venture out I end up indulging myself in some adult beverages and they like to play with my mind later. I’m not trying to downplay anyone else’s hang over because I’ve seen some of my good friends fight the good fight against the alcohol demon the next day and feel nothing but bad for them. However after I drink my next day is more than likely filled with some intense cycling from my BMD that sends me on a whirlwind of day.

I spend a decent amount of my days trying to figure out this BMD I’ve been handed and that entails a lot of control battles. To try and put it into terms for someone that is having a tough time trying to pick up what I’m putting down I’ll try to explain it in more relatable terms. I’m sure everyone has had some sort of injury throughout their life (and if not you’re more than likely Bruce Willis’ character in his worse movie ever, “Unbreakable”, and I pity you) and with that injury you always have downtime when you are just unable to run, walk, write, turn your head, lift something or whatever the case may be due to the injury. During this time you lose trust in whatever you injured and lose belief you’ll ever be the same again. In any case eventually your injury heals and you are back to your old self again but there’s always some time after you’re cleared from your doctor that you spend time learning to trust whatever you injured again. You know you’re ok but in the back of your mind you can still recall the pain and distrust you had in your injury and it takes some time to believe in it again. But over time you begin to forget about the injury and it goes to the back of your mind and then eventually it’s gone and you are back to your old self.

That unfortunately is not going to be a reality for me, I’m always going to have BMD. So I struggle in trying to believe in my mind again and trust myself again, and it gets tough. I’m not trying to say that my mind or for that case I’m broken and can’t be fixed, I’m just saying that I’m a little different now and learning to handle everything. It’s like when you injured yourself and now you’re healed up and ready to go, the next time you do whatever activity you injured yourself in you might go at it in a little different angle, I’m just looking for that angle.

For me one of those new angles is to go out and have a few drinks with a friend and try to forget. It’s funny how going out on a Wednesday night in the Nasty’s downtown with a dancing bear will make you feel a little normal, and how good that can feel sometimes. Is it the solution? No, and I know that, but it’s like sending a player back down to the minors to find his swing. They know they aren’t going to stay down there for the rest of their career but it has a purpose and why not enjoy the time that you are down there?

On a brighter side I didn’t smoke one cig last night and the one I took from the bathroom attendant (lame) I gave to the homeless guy on my walk home, my good deed for the day (sort of).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,