Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 4

Where I come from Carhartts, lacers, FFA, and tractors are cool. Where I come from talking about the fields, discussing the weather, and debating township issues are the mainstream topics of conversation. Where I come from dip, chaw, chew, and spitters are a sign of social acceptance. Where I come from everyone is your neighbor and in times of crisis help isn’t asked for, it’s already been given. Where I come from may not be perfect, but its home and I’ve begun to realize that just maybe where I come from is exactly where I needed to be.

Before anyone has the bright idea to take that above passage and slap it on a wooden plank, paint it, and sell it I just ask that I receive 10% of the gross profit (we’ll also need to negotiate distribution plans and marketing strategies so please email me with appointment requests). I was talking to El Doc yesterday and I must admit I wasn’t having the best day so my mood wasn’t the greatest but anyhow I ended up going on a tangent about healthcare. There’s not quite another feeling in this world (or at least one I’ve experienced, and I’ve experienced a lot…mood disorder) than hearing someone tell you that you are too much of a risk/liability for them to cover you (even though there’s nothing that is your fault about it). I wish I could say that I was He-Man (“Masters of the Universe”=Courteney Cox’s best performance) afterwards but that would be a lie, I holed for a good five to ten minutes in my bathroom.

I was telling this story and it was obvious I was passionate about the subject. I guess I’ve been raised around people who actually care about others (we may have a unique way of expressing this, but don’t tell us how to help each other; we don’t tell you how to be assholes). When Stubby lost his hand (unfortunately we never found it) I can recall the entire community coming to help during harvest (that’s a big deal city folk). There has never been a time while growing up that if one of our own was in trouble that help wasn’t soon behind.

This mania has brought people into my life that are simply irreplaceable while at the same time it has driven people away that I never thought possible. At times I’ll hole (simply fall into a black hole within my mind) and basically dwell on this but I can usually pull myself out. I try to be strong and appreciate all that I have in this world because deep down I know there are a lot of people out there struggling more than I can imagine. During this I, like so many others, ask myself what’s my calling? My purpose? Why did all this happen to me and what am I suppose to do with it?

I think the answer may have come from Cuzin Art:
“There is something speaking through you, once you learn to harness it you’re going to be unstoppable.”
& El Doc:
“You should be an advocate; they could use you and your skills.”

I am obsessed with the Revolutionary War Era with its secrecy, “treason”, and new ideas on life. I am particularly fascinated by the Founding Fathers whom stood up and gave voice to others who simply couldn’t or wouldn’t. They risked all that they knew to make a change for the better of all. How amazing would it be if I could mimic this in some way with BMD? To give a voice to those who are unable or unwilling. There are so many things I see wrong with this diagnosis (calling it a disease and illness to begin with, we are not sick and contagious and that’s what those words imply) and so much I want to change. It’s almost too much to really believe at this point for me. But then I remember where I come from and know I’d rather try to help too much than do nothing at all…

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,

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