Monday, December 26, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 50

It’s pretty rare when I go through an entire week nowadays without finding some inspiration that I want to write about. When I first started this blog I had so many ideas running around in my head on what I wanted to talk about that I rarely found it when I couldn’t find a topic about BMD to write about. Last week however was one of those times when it seemed my inspiration was lacking.

There could be multiple reasons for this and a every one I’ve even considered in great detail. For instance maybe I was so consumed with the holiday season and what was going on that my BMD kind of took a back seat to more “pressing” concerns. Or maybe I’m actually getting a little healthier now that my BMD isn’t playing such a significant role in my day to day life (I severely doubt that though). But I’m guessing that I was simply being a little lazy (hey, it’s Christmas time you know). But a Christmas miracle (ok not really, but it was still pretty cool) changed all that yesterday and lucky for you I’m going to share.

To say that this BMD caught me and my entire family off guard would be nothing more than a giant understatement. I mean my dad told me awhile back that not only did he not know what BMD was he hadn’t even really ever heard of it. To be completely honest; my opinion of BMD was not far off from Stubby’s either, I had a basic idea of what it was but when you boil it down I really had no idea (unless you’d say calling your girlfriend bipolar for being a moody brat having a firm grasp on BMD, I was also rather clueless).

But can you really blame us? I mean there is zero family history. I never once, while growing up in South Chuck, ever heard someone be referenced to as actually having BMD and I definitely never met someone with it. The only perspectives I ever had on BMD came from the media (and they really aren’t known for how accurate they are when portraying mental health). Maybe it was because of all of these reasons and more that I decided I was going to embrace my BMD, laugh as much as possible with it, and live my life; not a life around BMD but one with it (I don’t think I really knew any better).

Last night at the Thompson Family Christmas (the live nativity scene has been postponed until the next generation in case you were wondering), I found the inspiration I’ve been talking about. It’s been nearly four years since my first episode and 2 years (still holding breath a little to get through this winter btw) since my last psych ward getaway. During this time I’ve grown and learned to laugh at everything that I’ve been given (well not everything, but I’m pretty damn close). I guess that’s just the way that I like to fight my BMD.

For a lot of people this may seem awkward or weird or uncomfortable (of course I’m sure they believe I have a mental illness) but it works for me. Over time I’ve begun to see not only my family but my close friends begin to warm to the idea of poking fun of my BMD; and I love it. It’s one thing to hear your brother or good friends burn you on your psychosis but a whole other when it’s your G’ma.

Last night G’ma was opening her gifts from everyone and one was a 1000 piece puzzle (she loves puzzles, maybe that’s where my psych ward past time comes from) of a peacock with its feathers up. It looked like quite a challenging and very difficult puzzle if I say so myself. I even mentioned how tough the puzzle looked with all the all colors and similar patterns and what not. To this my G’ma replied:

“I know Derek; I’m going to need your medicine to get through it.”

The first thing that came to my mind as I laughed was:

She gets it. I can’t believe she fuckin’ gets it. So awesome!

I hope you had a Merry Christmas and if I don’t see you a very Happy New Year!

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,

Friday, December 16, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 49

So last night I was hanging out with Dave Chappelle’s neighbor (name-dropperville, population me) and we started to get into my BMD. I’ve noticed that my friends are becoming more and more comfortable in talking to me about my mania and what have you. I think it’s really cool because I think it not only helps them understand BMD a little better but it’s good medicine for me (I admit it, I like talking about myself). So Dave’s neighbor and I got into how the mania affects me and I describe it like this:

“It’s like I go to bed fine and the next morning I wake up and it feels like I’m rolling my balls off on ecstasy, tripping my face off on acid, all while at the same time my mind races like I’ve done enough cocaine to physically and mentally impair a donkey. Yeah things can get interesting.”

One of the first things Dave’s neighbor said to me was he thought bipolar was when I’d go from happy to angry like a mood swing. I literally laughed out loud when he said this (and then kind of felt like a dick about laughing). The main reason I find this humorous is because I wished my BMD would simply take me from happy to angry, that all this could simply be described as a “mood swing”. Life would be a hell of a lot simpler that way.

When I was recovering from episode uno back in late 2008 I would spend countless nights searching for answers. At this point I had spent the previous 8 months in a drug induced zombie state of depression and was now looking for help. I would sit up at night surf the world wide web searching for some sort of reassurance that I wasn’t alone, that someone out there understood what I was going through. What I had experienced during my manic episode was far from a “mood swing” but yet that’s the only thing I read about when others described BMD.

I get it too. I understand that the symptoms of my mania do resemble “mood swings”. I know that the chemicals in the brain (like serotonin and dopamine) that affect moods and even swings in those moods are also the same chemicals that directly affect my BMD peeps. I even saw a special on the Science channel (nerd alert, nerd alert) that described how the areas of the brain that are active during my manic episodes directly correlate to mood and the like. So I more than get why the comparisons are made between mood swings and BMD, but it doesn’t mean I agree with it.

During the nights of searching online it almost at times would have a negative effect on me. Instead of finding the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone in my madness I actually began to feel more isolated. See what I went through was far from a mood swing, everyone has mood swings (my ex seemed to have them more than others) but I was psychotic not angry. I just think we can do better than the description “mood swings” for BMD because it’s really not accurate (at least for me).

Look a kite is pretty cool and those Chinese really got one right on this one (not so much so with Communism though). They use aeronautical engineering to create lift under the kite so that it can fly. Hell they’ve even figured it out so much that you can navigate these wings in flight and have them dance in the air. It’s pretty cool how the same principles used with a kite match out with modern day flight, those physics haven’t changed. But to me it’s similar to comparing my BMD to mood swings; just because a kite can fly doesn’t mean I call it a jet.

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,

Friday, December 9, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 48

Did you know that in 2010 Adam Sandler made something ridiculous like twenty-something million on movies? Yeah I have no idea how that works either when his two “blockbuster” hits were “Grown Ups” and “Jack and Jill” (I know, I didn’t see them either). Seeing how you can find such easy success in the movie industry these days I’ve decided to switch my writing focus and try my hands at a screenplay (seems easier than trying to get this book going).

I have yet to come up with a title yet but my idea is a comedy set in Jerusalem roughly around Passover in the time of JC in which I’m on my first pilgrimage to the Temple Mount as a faithful man of Judaism. I’m thinking of starting the film (yeah it’s a film, not a movie) out with something like this:

Scene 1: Dekel (main) and his best friend Jehiel are exiting the pool of Siloam in preparation for their first visit to the Temple Mount.

Jehiel: “Is it cold out or something?”

Dekel: “Haha, real funny Jehiel, you know I just got out of that cold pool. Besides look at what you’re working with over there, it looks like your old man busted his circumcision cherry on you. How does everything still even work down there?”

. . .

Dekel: “I’m sorry Jehiel, it doesn’t look totally awful. I’m just on edge because I’ve heard of rumors that the “son of God” has been seen performing miracles around and the high priest is pissed. I swear if I rode that damn donkey for a week and that mediocre handyman screws this up for me. It’s bad enough I’m not even allowed in the Temple itself, everyone forgot to mention that key fact as they persuaded me for this pilgrimage.”

Jehiel: “I don’t think he’s supposed to be a good carpenter, seeing how he’s the “King of the Jews”.

Dekel: “King of the Jews?!?!?” Listen my great, great, great, great ancestors didn’t walk their happy asses out of Egypt, away from the Pharoh’s control, then roam the god forsaken dessert for a couple thousand years for us to be led by someone who can supposedly raise the dead but can’t balance my kitchen shelves. Which brings me to my next point, if he’s performing all these miracles why doesn’t he just walk around just healing people instead of--”

Passing Man: “There’s trouble in the city! Someone is causing trouble near the Temple! The Roman soldiers are heading that way!!”

Dekel: “Damn it, I knew it!”

I’m not really writing this screenplay but I felt it was a pretty solid intro into what I have been thinking about lately; that’s religion. I met with Dr. A (yeah I wish I was doing that for patient-doctor confidentiality but it’s actually because I can’t spell his last name) earlier this week and we somehow got on the subject of how prevalent religious/spirituality themes are in manic episodes. There’s also other recurring themes in people with BMD manic episodes but they don’t particularly affect me (still not sure if not having an unbelievable sex drive like others is good or bad) but the religious and spirituality one definitely hits close to home.

Now because of this I decided to look up online some other’s experiences with religion during their episodes. It was pretty fascinating to see how many people shared very similar manic episode experiences of religion and spirituality, even to the point that most change their belief system because of it. However there was of course one “doctor” who attributed everyone’s experiences to symptoms of their mania and a direct result of not understanding their illness (on a personal note I believe this doctor lives a cold and empty life, or at least I hope).

Not only did this stellar professional of mental healthcare have no business in this chat forum (as he doesn’t experience religious themes in his mania as the title of the group said) he was wrong (well maybe a little right). Sure I attribute the experiences of spirituality and religion we manics have to our mania and bipolar disorder but to me that doesn’t really explain where they came from. I think the most important part of these experiences is what they do to us afterwards. The religious/spiritual experiences I’ve had in my mania and others have written about are powerful and life altering, and I think sometimes the docs are more than a little jealous of that (I mean we’re supposed to be sick right?).

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,

Friday, December 2, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 47

The silent monks of the Carthusian Monastery would like to wish you a Happy Birthday this year.

(Opens card to find complete blankness)

After seeing this on paper I’m convinced that this birthday card is a ton funnier in person. Oh well, I suppose each family has their own traditions for birthdays. With Stubby everyone gets to celebrate their “birthday month” which means each and every argument is settled with the simple phrase:

“Yeah but it’s my birthday month.”

End of argument. Another tradition is to try and find the most ridiculous and/or most funny card you can find and this one above was mine. You know it’s more of a thinking piece than most other b-day cards and everyone at the bar last night had to take a few extra seconds to get it (I guess alcohol does affect the brain) but it was a success. I also got a few laughs for my gift for Stubby. Seeing how he’s now engaged he has obligations to wine and dine his fiancĂ© so I felt like his evening dress attire was lacking in one department; stump wear.

It’s a little known fact but in most “jacket required” restaurants also usually have a dress code for the stump wear as well and Stubby's Hanes white footie just won’t cut it (that’s probably not true). To make sure Stubby doesn’t have any embarrassing experiences in one of these restaurants similar to the one Rick Vaughn had in “Major League” I decided to purchase some black footies for his birthday. They even had the gold toe line to help him line up the fitting before his steak dinner (I did feel uncomfortable in the Kids department shopping for these, quite uncomfortable for some unknown reason…OK I was actually in the Lingerie department at this point).

In the end it was all worth it though because dammit I thought it was funny. Hopefully that’s a sign for me that this funk I’ve been in is starting to let up a little more. As I’ve mentioned I by no means thought that this winter was going to be easy on me for a number of reasons. The first is I always have trouble in the winters, plus if you’ve been through an Ohio winter you know how much it can suck and be depressing, now add BMD to that. Secondly I’m on my two year cycle/pattern of mania. And lastly I’m finally on some meds that are helping, but I had a feeling my mania wouldn’t like that so much and take it out on me (I was more than right).

The toughest part so far was I really wasn’t expecting this all to kick in until around January or February as that’s when I usually have trouble. But my BMD is an overachiever this year and decided to show up in October (yeah it’s a dick like that). One of my “tells” on this is I always lose my sense of humor and rarely laugh. Last night at Stubby’s birthday I was finding more humor in my life which means hopefully this funk is releasing its hold on me some more. Which is awesome because I think laughter is good medicine, no matter what you’re fighting.

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,

Friday, November 18, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 46

I’m not going to lie, there were more than a few benefits from being the “beer man’s” step-son while growing up (I basically felt famous in Browntown because of him, which says a lot about its drinking habits). I of course liked to abuse my power because it usually made me laugh. One of these occurrences used to happen quite often in college and that was when a party was trying to tap a keg.

I always enjoyed heading to a party where people would be crowding around the untapped keg in anticipation of the awesomeness about to be bestowed upon them (they were also more than likely chanting: “Chips, chips, chips, chips, chips!”) as the host struggled with the taps. Ah, the eternal struggle of untapped kegs versus the guys who have been drinking all day was always entertaining. The tap wouldn’t be sealed or they’d have it on crooked or the beer would be pouring way too fast (all forms of alcohol abuse btw). They’d struggle with it for a few minutes as the crowd would grow anxious (and at times I even heard some slurs as well). I could see the frustration just about tip (plus it would be about the time I’d start getting thirsty) when I’d mentioned this:

“Hey guys, my step-dad works for Budweiser, you want me to tap those kegs?”

I usually received cheers and a few jealous snide remarks as I saved the party (I also felt like Jeremy Piven in PCU after he tapped the kegs and silenced the “chips” chant-get it now?). If I really liked the people throwing the party I’d even bring over the CO2 tap passed down to me from my step-dad (you didn’t have to pump it, amazing). Funny thing about that tap is that when I tried to return it the only response I got from my step-dad went something like this:

“So I let (Radio Edit) borrow this tap for a number of years at UC and it gets returned to me without a scratch. And you have it for one year at Witt and it’s destroyed?”

I only had one answer:

“Yeah, sorry, my friends like to party.”

I didn’t say that but he would have laughed if I did (I mean he’s the beer man, he’s awesome). It is true though, my friends did like to party. We didn’t half-ass it by any means (ask the woman with the machete who wanted to shut down our backyard concert/kegger-she could of just called and complained). I’ve seen this trait develop over the years from simple big screen porn on during high school parties to the unfortunate demise of the tap to now my fight with BMD, I have trouble half-assing anything.

Sure this has gotten me into trouble (the Commonwealth of Kentucky can attest to that) but it’s also what I believe will get me through this. Don’t get me wrong even today I get into trouble because I want to go so hard (or H.A.M) and beat this BMD by outworking it. This can backfire though and I can lost in the details around me and then the big picture (being healthy) gets compromised because I feel left behind in the other aspects of my life (career, social, and well just trying to get laid I guess-I kid, I kid). Don’t get it confused though I am grateful that I don’t half-ass this diagnosis or much in my life but it does get tough to explain my actions at time. The beer man and that damn cop on a bicycle in Covington can back that up for me.

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,

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 45

That evil inside me. . .
I can feel it ever so lightly. . .

To deal with the craziness I like to find rhymes in my mind
Piecing together the puzzle of madness before I run out of time
But somehow the puzzle feels like a show for the angels above
Doing the impossible by unimaginable feats all in the name of love
Trying to tight walk that fine line I've been known to speak of

I can feel it ever so lightly. . .
That evil inside me. . .

Now I'm in the second act and the end is definitely near
Where my life gets flipped from the light and I get lost in fear
The evil takes control of me and there's nothing I can do
Lucky for me my madness arrives in time to play too
Now I've lost my ability of knowing what's fantasy and true

That evil inside me. . .
I can feel it ever so lightly. . .

Here's the end of the show, the final piece of the puzzle to be told
And despite all that you've done I still fight, refusing to fold
Even when I know the reason we lost our little brother was you
But instead of fear it gave me a new purpose to defeat you
So run and hide inside, when you're ready I'll be right here waiting for you

I can feel it ever so lightly. . .
That evil inside me. . .

Coming Correct,

Friday, November 11, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 44

It seems as of late I’ve been catching a lot of those little inspiration/life lesson quips across the World Wide Web. You know the ones I’m talking about, they say something along the lines of “Be nice to everyone because everyone is fighting some kind of battle” or “It takes one to know one”. The one that really hits home for me though is “When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.”

The reason that one hits home is that it reminds me of something pretty damn funny, and of course I’m talking about my sex life (I’m already laughing just thinking about it). So I’m nearing the end of my hoop earring phase in my life and due to my fifth year of eligibility at the bars (oh and Witt) I’m spending a lot of time “chasing tail” (I said that last night at my alcohol class and got a big response so I figured I’d drop in it here). One of these nights on the chase I was successful.

I of course am going to protect the identity of this young lady however I will say she was not a Tiger but rather a townie, hence the reason it wasn’t too hard to pick her up (oh Browntown ladies I kid I kid). After the bar we proceed to take a drive in the Jeep (it’s summer so the top is down, derr) but a little into our drive my passenger decides she’d rather see what’s going on behind us so naturally the best view is sitting on top of me facing the other direction (only makes sense right). So I’m trying to watch the road and shift gears (in more ways than one) and take mental notes for this awesome story.

Needless to say we decided to stop to chat and get to know each other better (no, that’s a lie) but was chased out of the cul-de-sac by somebody watching (or calling the cops, not sure as I was obviously distracted) so we needed an exhibitionist location to conclude what’s adding up to be my best performance of my young “chasing tail” experience. I decided it would be a good idea to finish up somewhere romantic and under the stars, like my parents yard (Mom, I’m sorry but now that I think about it I’m probably the reason the neighbors don’t really like us).

On our way back to drop her off and for me to not brag whatsoever to my friends about the awesomeness that just happened. I started getting a little cocky (shocker I know) and after the sexcapades (like that word don’t ya) I felt pretty damn good. Being in this state of overconfidence I asked, despite already assuming the answer was going to be great:

“So, how was it?”

She replies without a hint of hesitation:

“Eh, I give it about a 5.”

Hahahahaha I still laugh at that, talk about making an ass out of myself from making assumptions. The same principle can be applied to the troubles I’m having right now with this BMD. It had been about 9 months of feeling pretty positively optimistic. I think I got a little overconfident due to the success I was having with the lithium and the lack of the Big D in my life. I think I knew this winter was going to be tough due to it lining up in the two year pattern I’ve experienced with my mania, but once again I made an ass out of myself.

I honestly just assumed that I’d be able to get through this winter without much of a problem. I obviously wasn’t naive in thinking this was going to be breeze to get through but I definitely thought it’d be easier than the time I’ve been having. I’m not going to quit just because it’s more difficult than I originally thought or because I’m not quite as good at it as I thought. But I’m still learning how to deal with this all and it’s become quite evident I still have a lot to learn, apparently pretty similar to when I “chase tail”.

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,

Friday, November 4, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 43

Does it seem like this to anyone else but whenever I’m single I get no love from the ladies and it seems as soon as I start dating someone all of a sudden I’m hot shit (or at least I like to think so). But it does feel like as soon as I’m unavailable there’s this sudden interest in me from the opposite sex. I’ve always been somewhat baffled by this because I’m pretty sure I haven’t changed in the short time it took from being pathetic and single to suddenly the hottest commodity (I know that doesn’t make sense because a commodity is the same no matter what so there can’t be the “hottest” if everything’s the same but it’s just a damn figure of speech, get over it) on the market. Well this past week I think I figured it out:

Women see other women with a man and think that they are missing out on something and want that something that’s not theirs. While when a single guy comes around women automatically think there must be something wrong with him or some other woman would already have him.

I know, I just got all “What Women Want” on ya (I’ll admit it, Helen Hunt is pretty smokin’ in that movie) but I think I’m on to something here, and it makes me laugh. I think that’s the whole point for me right now, laughing. When I’m fighting the Big D it’s about the last thing on my mind and the last thing I do. It really sucks because I really love to laugh, and when I don’t I really don’t feel like me. What got me thinking about what women want was my attempts to break out of this funk.

I was thinking (ok that’s a lie, I was moping) earlier this week about my single status on my facebook page. I was getting a little desperate I’ll admit it; the thought of trying my luck online again may have crossed my mind. But then a commercial for eHarmony came on and reminded me of a couple things.

Number one is that this guy on the commercial was explaining in detail how he was looking for this connection. Going into an elaborate explanation about what he’s looking for and how he’s in search of his soul mate and finding something lasting and really digging into his inner girl. This didn’t make me feel good about my chances because I write about old man’s penises.

Secondly, well to be honest I haven’t gotten past the old man penis thing, but I’m working on it. I think the important thing for me right now is to stop pushing so hard. When I get into my depression all I can think about is getting out as soon as possible. I concentrate all my energy on breaking out of my funk and trying to be myself. I’m finding out though that when I don’t push as hard and just let it be I start finding laughter in my life again (which eventually pulls me out of the Big D).

I’ve started laughing and finding my life again this week and it’s more than likely attributed to my apparent complete lack of understanding in women. This lack of understanding makes me laugh and that’s something I haven’t been doing lately, I forgot how much fun it was not to hate the world (damn do I hate you depression). Luckily I was only fighting it for a few weeks which is a ton better than a few months (simple math folks). I’m not pushing as hard and I’m starting to see the comedy in my life again, I mean it’s everywhere and especially in my dating life (see my “What Women Want” reference above) but at least I can laugh about it (despite my epic loneliness, I kid I 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,

Friday, October 28, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 42

Synopsis: Actor Bruce Willis and writer/director M. Night Shyamalan reunite after the surprise success of The Sixth Sense for this supernatural thriller. David Dunne (Willis) is taking a train from New York City back home to Philadelphia after a job interview that didn't go well when his car jumps the tracks and collides with an oncoming engine, with David the only survivor among the 131 passengers on board. Astoundingly, David is not only alive, he hardly seems to have been touched. As David wonders what has happened to him and why he was able to walk away, he encounters a mysterious stranger, Elijah Prince (Samuel L. Jackson), who explains to David that there are a certain number of people who are "unbreakable" -- they have remarkable endurance and courage, a predisposition toward dangerous behavior, and feel invincible but also have strange premonitions of terrible events. Is David "unbreakable"?

Spoiler Alert: This movie sucks but somehow it scored like 7.3 rating on IMDB (nothing makes sense in the world right now). As mentioned before I’m a firm believer that this is Bruce Willis’ worst movie but it got me thinking. This past week has been pretty awful for reasons that I’m still trying to cope with. During one of my coping sessions (I’ll admit it, I’m depressed as a mofo) I started thinking about the possibility of my very own Elijah Prince out in the world.

I mean if Willis is “Unbreakable” shouldn’t there be someone out there who is totally “undeserving”? Instead of walking out of disasters without anything more than a scratch there has to be someone out there sitting in a life full of everything they’ve ever wanted but did nothing to deserve it. I imagine my “undeserving” had everything come easily to them, that they haven’t had to work for anything in their life, and that they have been given everything.

At times I’ll sit at home grappling with the fact that it seems no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I want it, no matter how much I do right I end up feeling like a piece of shit (last week for example). During these times I’m fixated on going back over the events of my life trying to find the answer to why it seems I can’t get off my ass and make it. I overanalyze every detail trying to determine if it was my fault that I’m feeling like complete shit.

I mean why can’t a creepy weird black man enter my life and answer all my questions? Why can’t I have a stalker from afar that is full of the answers? Well maybe because I’m the black man in this completely overrated movie. Could it be that I’m the one that needs to seek out this undeserving bastard that has had his life handed to him? Is it possible that this spoiled dude on the top of the world needs me to come around and creepily attempt to destroy it?

As much fun as this quest sounds to find my more than lucky son of a bitch opposite that’s life has been filled with everything but adversity, I really don’t know where to start (the top 1% maybe, oh conservatives calm down it was a joke). The truth of the matter is I know my opposite is somewhere out there sitting under palms at their private villa with a female companion that’s not superficial at all. While I sit and bitch on my computer in the middle a field by myself (well Tug’s here, but damn it he won’t quit barking). But all kidding aside (except for my distaste for “Unbreakable”, that’s real) even if my opposite is somewhere out there I want to let them know I actually feel sorry for you. I mean living an “undeserving” life that just comes to you despite work ethic and without adversity can only spoil someone. If life comes that easily to them, is it really worth 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,

Friday, October 21, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 41

As some of you keen observers may have noticed from last week I’m not really feeling that great. At first I thought it was due to the fact that I lack anything that resembles patience and this was leading me to my irritability and crappy moods. I’ve been feeling some anxiety as I’m anxious to move onto the next step in my life (three years in recovery is starting to test me, I’d like to be able to support myself again at some point of my life).

In order to try and counter this Big D offensive (yea I watched a “Modern Marvels” over the VC tunnels in Vietnam, those tunnel rats had some balls let me tell you) I decided earlier this week to take a hike (without the deer antler helmet, still trying to figure out whoever sent that). I hadn’t been to the Clifton Gorge since I was a kid so it sounded like a plan. I figured I’d take a couple hours and try to find the patience I’ve been lacking.

When we were kids Stubby would take us to the Gorge every so often and it was always a good time. Although I will admit as a kid we went during the spring when it’s wet and there are waterfalls everywhere and the water is running a ton faster (luscious vegetation is what I’m hinting at). This also meant at least one of us boys would bust our ass on the trail but it was totally worth it for the rock climbers and “three hot tubs” rapids. This fall everything was a lot drier but it still didn’t prevent me from turning my ankle around three times (increasingly embarrassing considering there were runners busting ass through the trails that I could barely walk).

The hike was great (we’ll call it 9 rock skips so that’s a new record Cuzin Art, deal with it) and afterwards I did feel better and was able to calm myself some. This was unfortunately short lived as the weather changed the following day and then a couple days ago I had the worse day I’ve had in awhile. I suck during the winter (2 hospital stays and depression pretty rampant) and it doesn’t help being in Ohio either. I mean the sun disappears for like three months during the winter here. It’s cold, dreary, gloomy, and dark where normal people get a little down and depressed, imagine trying to deal with all of this while also having BMD (it’s not real fun).

Which means I’m pretty sure my depression is starting to creep it’s punk-ass face out from hiding because during the middle of the week I was awoke around 4 in the morning feeling like the biggest piece of shit this side of the Mississippi (and probably the other side as well). I forgot just how terrible it can make me feel, it’s not even for the birds it’s that bad. I think I got a little spoiled on how good I was feeling over the past few months and that really pissed off the evil inside me (sore loser).

That evil is just as much part of the game I’m in as my mania and my depression. It wants to use my Big D to drive me down, hold me down, and force me to live a life that seems unfair to me. This evil is in the game to win it and while a nature hike may help out it’s far from the answer. My depression feels like it’s out to do one thing alone, and that’s force me to live my life in the corner (or the bathroom). It wants me to fear life and be forced to living one full of compromises. I’ve been through this before and it’s made me want to move from the harsh winters of the Midwest but I’m still here and I need to start fighting.

To fight back I like to think this evil I once believed had been given to me actually picked me. That it goes after the strongest of us knowing that if it can break them the rest will follow. I take pride in thinking that the BMD, Big D or evil feels threatened by me and wants to break me down. Knowing that every time I get back up, each tearful day I make it through, and every last battle I can fight through just makes me stronger, exactly the opposite of what my evil Big D wants (and I’m pretty sure I know who sent me the deer antler helmet now and told me to take a hike; game on).

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,


Friday, October 14, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 40

I spent yesterday (my first day off work) worried sick about bed bugs, yeah it did suck. I was once again a participant in an assessment of my mental health. This is about the 7th or 8th time I’ve had this unique pleasure of someone with a degree more than likely from a community college “exploring” my mental health and drug addiction(s). In the past I haven’t had much success with these assessments; for instance two psych ward visits (probably needed those though), placement in rehab (how can I take my lithium when all drugs are prohibited), dropped the f-bomb bigger than shit on a doc (he totally deserved it) and in a my most recent one completely lost trust within 10 minutes of doctors (stop trying to put me on more pills).

I will admit I screwed up and deserved this last assessment from my legal issues (20 hours of class from being resolved though) but to watch the secretary spray down the entire office with disinfectant after I visited with the “community college counselor” was worrisome. Then I overheard said counselor calling corporate to discuss the proper procedure to disinfect the office if a client reports bed bugs (it wasn’t me btw, it was another dirty butt). Not exactly the way I envisioned my first day of freedom from my summer job that seemed a hell of a lot hotter, longer, and not as much fun as it was in college (I did drop like 20 LB’s though, love life still dormant though). As I sat there in contemplation on the consequences of bed bugs (mainly that I’d have to tell everyone I have bed bugs) I began to think, what a crazy problem to have.

It reminds me of the daily, weekly, and just normal crazy problems I have to face in my life on a consistent basis. Finding healthcare, fighting the mania, dealing with depression, worrying about my career, concerns I’ll never be able to support myself, fears of waking up manic or even worse in another psych ward, and the list could continue. I at times envy and resent at the same time people around me for their problems. More times than not over the past three years or so it feels as though the harder I work the further I go backwards (still living off my family for instance right meow).

Then I see people around me finding success in their lives and complaining about it. Maybe it’s just the new “American Way” to bitch all the time but I find it difficult to find pity for your promotion, wedding planning, new home, new member of a family, or whatever “terrible” event in their lives that’s going to cost them so much money. It makes me at times boil inside and makes me want them to have a little taste of my world so they can appreciate theirs so much more.

As difficult as this is at times I need to realize they do not realize what exactly they have or what they’re doing. I may even need to thank most of them because they’ve made this next decision of mine very easy. I grew up in a town that preached the morals of Christianity, to have love and charity towards others that are less fortunate. To treat others as you would want to be treated, and for the most part I see that in my community now even with the “American Way” of bitching. This past summer I spent a majority of it running the business I worked in college as my family member who owns it was hurt in a wreck. I had zero problem helping out, it’s what everyone does when a family needs help in the community (seen it from Stubby to Poncho’s accidents) and he received a ton of support from the community.

Unless of course you have a mental health issue like mine. See no one dropped what they were doing to ever check on me, I didn’t receive one phone call, text message, email, letter or visitor in the past three years checking on me. However they weren’t too busy to expose the real reason I was hospitalized and brought home; drugs you see (yeah not BMD I guess).

I was resentful of this for awhile but I should be thanking them for this. By them I mean all of them, the assessment “counselors”, bed bugs, ungrateful peeps in my life, and my hometown Christian community. If it wasn’t for them I probably wouldn’t have the desire and drive to better myself I have today. Even despite the fact that at times it feels the harder I work the further behind I fall I’m not going to quit. I’m going to keep going and finally make it, because I don’t think I can stand to be around these peeps for the rest of my life (no I take that back, I know I can’t).

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,

Friday, October 7, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 39

I’m not entirely sure how true this story is about my Grandpa Dick but Poncho has been told it miles away in a small town bar years after it happened and Stubby claims to be an eye witness to the account. So uh here uh, here uh, here uh, here uh we go.

My mom and aunts grew up with horses of which their lives were completely ruined by according them (tough life when you have a pony isn’t it?) oh yeah owning a pizza house to eat from whenever must have been terrible as well. In any case seeing how it was 6 females versus my grandpa he tended to drink (can’t really blame the man) and one of his watering holes was just up the road from the house.

Well seeing how the distance was too far to walk and Grandpa was all about safety first and didn’t want to drink and drive he would ride the horse up to the bar (genius I know). So one day Grandpa is more than likely up to his eyes in estrogen so decides to take a ride up to the bar. Unfortunately on the way there it started to rain so being the animal lover he was Grandpa Dick simply rode the horse into the bar to get it out of the rain (I mean it only makes sense you know).

Everything was going fine until the horse took a shit in the bar by a game of 8 ball and really upset everyone in the bar except for Grandpa Dick (where else is it supposed to go, I mean it can’t flush a toilet). Some family members were called to come and get Grandpa Dick and the horse out of the bar and they did but there were some consequences for his actions. The bar soon after put up a sign that read:

Banned 1 week from the bar:

Dick Leach and the horse he rode in on

Hahaha that makes me laugh every time I hear it. I was reminded of this story the other day when for some unknown reason I was thinking about my first stay at Porter Hospital. I’ve mentioned how in the Wards us patients really lean on each other. I didn’t know this at first and was kind of caught off guard on how honest everyone was in there. It was inspiring and made me search out for others to help.

The first girl I spoke with was a rodeo cowgirl, I think she did barrel races, who was in the Ward because of a boy (aren’t we just pricks sometimes, but you ladies aren’t all sugar and spice all the time either). She had tried to take her life because of him. We talked for awhile and we were able to come to the conclusion that that prick definitely wasn’t worth all of this going on around us.

It was a great feeling to help someone out like that, it made it easier for me to handle what was going on in my life. Maybe that’s why the Wards leave us to ourselves a lot. They know working together and fighting together is the best medicine (although it’s probably more of a budget thing but a guy can dream). So what’s the moral of the story? Is it the connection of the rodeo cowgirl with my mom and horses being some sort of sign? Maybe it’s working together should be something I look to achieve in more areas of my life other than just fighting BMD?

Nope, the fact that the cowgirl was released that next day and I was stuck in that Ward for days afterwards proves I must really have been bat-shit crazy. But I mean my Grandpa finds solace by riding a horse into the bar and allowing it to drop a deuce on the floor by the pool table, should I have expected anything else?nce 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!

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,

ming Correct, d01roK

Friday, September 30, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 38

I know it seems hypocritical of me and all with my fear of scary movies but I’ve always loved Halloween. I mean what’s not fun about dressing up and wearing make-up to pretend you’re someone else (just ask Hollywood, they do Halloween like year round). And I’ll admit it; sometimes I can get a little carried away with my costumes.

For instance I’m pretty sure my costume last year offended someone to the point that it resulted in the “forgetting” of my invitation to a friend’s (or so I thought) wedding. Although I should be fair and divulge all of the facts here. I was wearing a towel that had about a 2 foot dick drawn on it, it was a RIOT (get it?). But at the same time I’ve had some pretty clutch costumes in the past like:

(Yeah that’s me as the Hamburglar at the McDonald’s where I just had stolen (ok I paid for) some tasty burgers.)

(Superbad, and yes I showed that Fake Fake Hawaiian McLovin ID at the bars, they really weren’t as amused at it as I was.)

I’m sure right about now that one or two of you are thinking: how could I be such a fan of All Hallows Eve when I’m such a pansy when it comes to scary movies? How can I have a fear of horror movies and then such a love for All Soul’s Day? And the answer to that is easy.

First off if you have ever seen a college campus during Halloween weekend and experienced the “costumes” the ladies are wearing (and you females know damn well what you’re doing, and I must say I like it) then you’d understand. Secondly how can I fear something that while growing up hooked me up with a stash of Smarties, FunDip, Nerds, Skittles, Reese Cups, and Mini Three Musketeers for a month?

So for you two who doubted me I hope you feel bad about yourselves. But I never like to leave anyone upset so I will say thank you for providing this transition into my fear of randomly one day waking up manic. While in all honestly I was hoping for a little bit smoother transition; well, shit happens.

For me it would be a complete lie (and I pride myself on honesty, well that and my unbelievable sliding ability during Little League) to say I do not fear waking up manic one day but I do not live in fear of it. It’s similar to my fear of snakes (damned creatures of Satan I tell you) in that I don’t wake up every day fearing that I’m going to have a snake attack me at some point of the day (but if it did I assure you I’ll be running as fast as I can the other way, just the toughness in me I guess). I don’t get up and think about snakes and hope that I never come across them and let my fear consume and control my day. That’s the difference to me of living in fear of something rather than living with the fear of something.

The same can go with my BMD and mania. I do fear waking up in a psych ward again (in good cause, those places are for the birds) but if I lived in fear of this rather than just with it then I really wouldn’t be living my life at all. That’s exactly what my mania wants to do, to hold me back in fear. It wants me to live in fear of it instead of living my life just with the fear of it. Simply put it just wants me to give up on my life (no way is that happening, I’m not giving up dick towels, skittles, and cleavage; it’s just not going to happen).

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,

Friday, September 23, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 37

There’s those few and far between moments in my life when I hear something and I’m totally caught off guard. At these occurrences of rarity in my life I can more than likely be thinking:

“Holy Shit! I really wasn’t expecting that.”

One of the first of these times of astonishment and awe happened when I was in high school. I was visiting my G’Pa and G’Ma when G’Pa stole the show and took over the story for my G’Ma who was “telling it all wrong!” I’m not sure why but we were talking about when I was born. Being the oldest grandson of a multi-generational farming family I was expecting to hear a story about maybe how proud and happy they were when I was born. But then again I am talking about my G’Pa so I should have known better.

Instead I received the story on how perplexed everyone in the community was because I was such an ugly baby (I wish I was making this up). He went on to say he couldn’t believe how such a good looking couple like my mom and dad could have such an ugly baby. To make things better for me he mentioned another baby in the community who was recently born and who was ugly as well with great looking parents (it really didn’t make me feel any better at the time).

What got me thinking about this was the conversation I had with my new doc in Xenia (wait a minute; Xenia=Twister=Wizard of Oz=my mania; weird) I had a couple weeks back. I must say that I really like this new guy (btw that reminds me a huge thank you to my Aunt (sort of) for getting me into to see him, your wish is now my command) and its not only because he said he thought I was the most insightful person with bipolar disorder he’s ever met (who am I kidding, that’s a big part of the reason). Actually we get along for a couple of reasons and one important one is that he made me think: “Holy Shit! I really wasn’t expecting that.”

I’ve made it pretty evident that I do not get along well with docs (but damn it they can be a pain in the ass at times). My main trust issue falls into the belief they are not serving my needs as the patient as their number one priority. As if they have their own agendas that they’re worried a hell of a lot more than they worry about my needs; these usually involve a new “wonder drug” they’ve had so much success with in the past treating (or should I say masking) bipolar disorder. I was fully prepared for another marketing pitch to me in the doc’s office that felt a whole lot like the sales presentations I used to make to potential clients at AT&Tizzle.

But rather my new doc dived into his belief that there were only two drugs (depakote and lithium) that should be used to treat bipolar disorder mania, end all be all, and the end. “Holy Shit! I wasn’t expecting that.” It was utterly refreshing to finally meet another doc (El Doc the other) that took the no nonsense, cut through the bullshit approach to not only treating but understanding this BMD. Not once did I hear him even mention another drug which is a warm welcome from the usual bombardment of medical propaganda I’m used to receiving in docs offices.

It feels pretty damn good to think I’ve got someone on my side that gets it, it’s even helping me deal with the self-image issues I have somehow acquired about my looks (you can grow out of ugliness, right?).

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,

Friday, September 16, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 36

Half way creative bipolar man seeking extremely talented musician for accompaniment for a potentially “Sweeping the Nation” single. Lyrics already provided merely seeking melody, rhythm, pitch, and musical presence that ‘gets the people going’. Any and all interested parties please reach out to the comment section of this post with contact information.

Prior to my episodes I was never really known for my writing; in fact I was absolutely terrible at it. English was my least favorite subject in school (History and Art here, yeah using both sides of my brain totally makes sense now, bipolar remember?). On my ACT I would have scored about three or four points higher if it hadn’t been for my below acceptable English scores (yeah Mom made me take it twice) on the exam. I’m not sure why I sucked so bad with writing but it was definitely evident.

I was absolutely horrible with run-on sentences (I mean I am manic though), grammar (Kelsey is the only Grammer I care about, terrible joke I know), and punctuation was just another example of one of my arch-nemeses (BTW I recently saw a bikini picture of Kristen Cavallari and even though I did not think it was possible it made me hate Jay Cutler even more). I could dive into why I think writing and English were not my faves but it’s more than likely because I thought I sucked at it.

It reminds me of why I ran track through high school and college (well until I jacked up my ankle trying to sled down the snow covered hill at the track on my butt, way to be smart Derek). I, like any normal person, really don’t care much for running, in fact it sucks. However I really like winning hence the reason I ran track (OK confession time, my first 400 meter hurdle race in college my girlfriend actually ran a faster time in her400 hurdle race-but she was on scholarship damn it) and no one I’ve ever met enjoys the pain and suffering one feels after running a 55.6 second (personal record) 400 meter hurdle race (that was totally dropped in there to make myself feel better about my girlfriend kicking my ass in the earlier comment). Sucking at something really makes me not want to do it.

That’s why after my freshman year in college I never took any more English or writing classes. I didn’t particularly enjoy writing and that was evident by my persistent procrastination to write term papers. I guess it’s really weird to think that now because one of my biggest tools in fighting this BMD is sitting here writing (the world is a crazy place). I’m really glad I’ve found something to release the craziness inside and it’s really growing on me, I mean I actually look forward to our weekly chats. I’m thankful for that, I couldn’t imagine trying to fight this without writing (it also helps that I’m pretty sure I don’t totally suck any more at it-well my editor would disagree with some of that, especially my punctuation and grammar, but at least I’m trying to get better).

In honor of this semi-new revelation of mine I’m actually going to share with all of you the first thing I wrote. It wasn’t a post, or story, or anything of prose form but actually a song. I wrote it sitting in the seal truck a few years ago to offset my boredom (no radio is the pits man). This song is of course only lyrics because I definitely can’t write music which is why I put out the call for help at the beginning of this post. Nonetheless it still makes me laugh and I hope you all enjoy it as well. It’s called “Worst Enemy”.

All I wanted to do was stay home with my girl and watch a movie
All I wanted to do was have her pick out a new DVD
All I wanted to do was introduce her to my good friend Ron Jeremy
But as we walked thru the porn shop door
She walked right past those DVD’s, she walked right to the back to my worst enemy

Vibrator, Vibrator this is your song
Vibrator, Vibrator you did me so wrong
Vibrator, Vibrator why are you so long
Vibrator, Vibrator stop being a bush hog

All I wanted to do was open her mind to new experiences
All I wanted to do was have threesome with one of her friends
All I wanted to do was her best friend Jen
But as Jen walked thru the bedroom door
She walked right past me and headed to the drawer and my worst enemy

Vibrator, Vibrator this is your song
Vibrator, Vibrator you did me so wrong
Vibrator, Vibrator why are you so long
Vibrator, Vibrator stop being a bush hog

All I wanted to do was have a simple night alone
All I wanted to do was call a sex line on the phone
All I wanted to do was play with my own bone
But as I started to crank my mind started to think
Just how good could it be with my worst enemy

Vibrator, Vibrator you rest in my palm
Vibrator, Vibrator I switch you on
Vibrator, Vibrator my you’re so loooong
Vibrator, Vibrator this was your song

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,

Friday, September 2, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 35

I thought about using this post to promote my book by continuing my relentless (and maybe creepy) pursuit of Hope Solo via twitter, but I figured I’ve give her a break. I don’t want you to think I haven’t been working on my book promotion or anything, I mean I changed my Voicemail to sound professional yet still funny (go ahead call me, I won’t answer just so you can listen). I also went to my Linkedin profile and made some changes. For instance on the section titled “Honors and Awards” I added:

Voted Southeastern High School's Summer Basketball Camp's "Best Defender" Fifth & Sixth Grade Division 1994
(That’s right, I may not be able to score to save my life but I’ll get up in your shit man!)

I actually did take some time and started looking for a publicist for my promotion of the book. Well actually I really wasn’t supposed to but I misread my editor’s notes (damn speed reading, I’m blaming my freshmen year reading teacher for that one) and instead of noting in my proposal I would be willing to pay a publicist after the book is published I just reached out to one last week (it seems I like to do things ass backwards now). The good thing is that I actually found one that’s interested in working on the book right now and assisting me in promoting it. Shit’s about to get real (hopefully).

But to be completely honest I think the real reason I haven’t been promoting the book and querying agents as much as I probably should is that I’ve got Georgia on my mind (wonder what the music video is going to be this week?). Yep I’m heading down South next week to catch the South Carolina and Georgia game where I’m hoping not to be verbally assaulted for wearing jeans on Gameday! (Obviously I screwed that one up before.)

I haven’t been to Athens in a couple years and I must say I’ve been missing the scenery. No offense to my Ohio girls who I find it incredibly attractive that you can bong a beer while still looking hot at a tailgate, but the belles just might have you beat. I literally fall in love around 50 times at each Georgia Tailgate; it’s really not fair for me. Add this in with the fact that I checked my recent calls yesterday on my phone and not one of them was a female; could equate to what some would say inappropriate behavior on my part next weekend towards the female populous of Athens, GA.

So in honor of the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 next weekend I’m going to be doing one of the most American things I know how to do, and that’s to Tailgate. I’ve even figured out how to fit in with these Bulldog fans despite the fact I’m a Yank wearing jeans on Gameday; just mention Herschel Walker. I swear these UGA’s love them some Herschel Walker, you just mention something about how he never lifted a weight through college and still won the Heisman and you’re in. Well in with the guys, the belles are a totally differently story. I’ll probably just drop the line that I’m a writer who just wrote a book and we’ll see how that goes (I have a feeling not very good, but at least I’m promoting my book).

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,