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,

d01roK

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,

d01roK

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,

d01roK

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,

d01roK