Monday, December 21, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 35

Wishing all seven of .e4 followers Happy Holidays!

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,
d01roK

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 34

“Hello sports fans and welcome to primetime knee football. We are coming to you live today from the cornfields of central Ohio where the locals have deemed the playing field as ‘back the lane’. It’s not unknown around these parts that the fierce competition that usually results from these epic battles between brothers usually runs over into the Monday morning bus stops for the Thompson boys but this is what keeps us coming back. For those of you new to the game I’ll pass it along to our resident professional Stubby to give you the low down of the game.”

“Thanks Bob. The boys usually start this game somewhere between the pop and shot there to the left in the toy room with the end zones being the toy tractor line to the north and the living room to the south. No pads are allowed in this game so the boys will be on their knees for the duration of the game but heavy hitting and multiple name calling is allowed and heavily encouraged. The game usually lasts anywhere between a half hour to an hour depending on which brother gets upset and decides to quit. The action is always two on one with the offense having the advantage with the extra player. Needless to say we’re in for a treat today as some heated exchanges have already begun during pre-game when the boys were eating their breakfast and watching cartoons.”

Similar to the simplistic Thompson brothers childhood tradition of knee football I’ve decided to start a tradition with my brothers that they have no idea about but one that I think will be a family favorite when it’s all said and done. Every Christmas we are no different than any other family (well one that has Christmas breakfast with their Mom and Step-Dad along with their Dad at their Moms house before opening presents together, we put the funk in dysfunctional) in the manner that we exchange gifts. I usually try to get something for my brothers that I think they would enjoy and that is popular at the time. For instance a couple years back I got them iPod’s (nothing extravagant but nice). I’ve realized that this tradition is missing something so I’ve decided to make a change for the better (at least I hope).

Rather than exchanging traditional gifts I’ve made up my mind that this year I’m going to do something a little different. I’ve known my brothers for their entire lives (and my entire life as well) and thus feel that I know them fairly well. For this reason I’ve decided that every year I’m going to give them their favorite childhood breakfast (Yoo-Hoo and Honeybuns/Root Beer and Funyuns, I’ll let you guess who gets what) along with a gift from TV. Lately I’ve been paying close attention to commercials to find the perfect gifts for my brothers and found it, a Snuggie.

I know many of you are thinking that a Snuggie is a great idea and I agree (aside from the new dog Snuggie, a dog has fur to keep it warm, it’s like putting a rain coat on a duck, they don’t really need it). The reason I chose a Snuggie may not be that common though. During my episode I became obsessed with noticing little things throughout my surroundings. I believed that a hand gesture, the color of a bum’s shirt, the background set in a movie, or the way a person greeted me were all signs or symbols. Now from time to time this feeling will creep back into me and this happened during the Snuggie commercial. I never noticed this before but when the commercial cuts to the fans at a game all wearing Snuggies outside there is a old man sitting in the front left hand side shaded towards the middle with no Snuggie on freezing his butt off and shaking (just rewind the commercial next time and stop it at this spot, pretty entertaining). This guy makes the whole commercial. It’s a little sad yet downright hilarious that no one in the crowd (especially considering the fact they are at least 15 years younger) offers this obvious Grandpa a Snuggie while he is in such discomfort.

A little bit of a lame reason to decide on the Snuggie but I’m glad my mania has led me to noticing the little things in life (although the obsession bit of it I could do without again). I couldn’t tell you how many toys my brothers and I received while growing up but one of the most fun times I had was playing knee football with a pillow with them. It’s like the old man in the commercial, it’s not the big flashy in your face elements of the commercial that everyone notices that hooked me. It was the simple, low key, yet perfect shivering old man that did. At times as much as I get frustrated with my mania I’m glad it’s around to remind me of what is important in life (of course that’s a breakfast of champions with Root Beer, Funyuns, Yoo-Hoo, and Honeybuns).

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,
d01roK

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 33

Bony Ass, Scrawny, Skinny, Chicken Legs, Dope Fein Derek, Twig, Grass Fairy, Skin-and-Bones, Tommy Tape Worm and the list goes on and on.

I am absolutely positive I am not the only one in the world that has been called a nickname from time to time as it’s undoubtedly a rite of passage while growing up. At times these names can be embarrassing or a little bit hurtful but I believe it’s all just part of the game. Everyone is going to be made fun of and name calling is as a part of our culture as deep frying anything and covering it with sugar is. I am by no means immune from this activity as I have so many times in the past name dropped a nickname on some total unsuspecting soul to get a rise out of everyone else. While my intentions were not always of the best nature I hope that the receiver of the nickname has a sense of humor and can let it roll (and if not; next time I poke fun just come up with a creative way of making fun of me when my voice cracked twice while on my first date and meeting her mom, yea I was that guy).

In any case I have learned that in order to survive I must have thick skin. The names I’ve been called and have heard others call people is downright impressive and a bit worrisome. To think how much time and effort someone would take to rhyme a name with any other non-hygienic body part takes some effort and I’m a little scared of what they could do if that energy was spent elsewhere. But I am not here to change the ways of the youth (hell I’m no more mature than them anyways, ask the convenient store guy at the corner of Garfield and Vine whom I constantly am fooling with). That being said I did read my papers from my mini vacation at Porter Hospital and being called psychotic isn’t the best feeling.

I recently shifted through my belongings bag that I was allowed to bring home from Porter Hospital after my episode and needless to say I found a few interesting things. There was the picture of comparing myself to an otter (I’m not even sure what exactly an otter is), the paragraph story of my high school buddies and I waking up on a plantation during the Great Depression (not random at all), and of course my emotions diary which consisted of a business plan for a roller paintball abandoned warehouse game (all rights and trademarks reserved by .e4). While all of these seem interesting the doctor evaluation and labeling of me as psychotic was a little tough to take.

To think I was in state of mind in which I was behaving in such a way that others feared me is something I have trouble grasping. I still think of myself as a 5 foot nothing freshman walking into high school with a bowl cut and weighing 100 lbs soaking wet so to try and imagine someone feeling threatened by me is mind-bottling. To have this label thrust upon you that you are unstable and a threat to others takes just about everything you know about yourself and throws it out the window, you feel nonhuman.

I’m not 100% sure on how I was suppose to take the news that a professional feared me so much as to have me court ordered to be on hold in a psych ward; but to strip away my identity so much as though I don’t feel human probably isn’t the result they were looking for. The only way I know how to try and handle it is to pick myself up and keep going. To say I don’t care or that I don’t think about the names some people might use to describe me would be a lie. But it’s those name calling actions as a boy and the ones I still hear today that motivate me to prove them all wrong. This bowled haired psychotic chicken legged grass fairy can thank those nicknames for making me who I am today; I just wonder how many of those people calling me the names really know who they are.

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,
d01roK