Friday, January 27, 2012

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 4 Issue 3

I smacked the stripper’s ass and looked over to my friend Jamin and asked:

“Is that alright?”

Don’t get it confused now; this wasn’t my first experience with strippers. While I may not be in love with strip clubs (except for The Clermont Lounge in A-Town) I am a guy and staring at naked women is like in my DNA. However on this occasion we weren’t in a strip club, we were in some black guy’s basement. Yep this experience was of getting my cherry busted at basically being at an all black bachelor party.

I should preference this with Jamin knows how intimidated I am by black women and I’m pretty sure he thought this was going to be really funny (he thought right but I got even with the “Jermaine Gresham and I stepped on his boys shoes incident” of last year). Now where this deep intimidation I have comes from is a mystery that Jamin and I have investigated and come the conclusion that I’m just crazy (I kid I kid). While I’m not 100% sure of the motivation behind taking me to this party I will tell you a few things I learned while being the minority.

Number one is that I should have brought my own beer because whatever that pink stuff was coming out of the giant orange cooler was fucking me up! The next one is a little difficult to explain so bare/bear/baer with me. I mentioned I’m not in love with strip clubs and that’s because I just seem to get frustrated by them, like it’s the worst cock tease ever. I get that they are hot and naked but what am I supposed to do now? That being said I somehow fell in love three times that night. The final life lesson was around my ass slapping experience above and that lesson is one that I’ll save to share one day with my son.

At times I forget how much I can learn by throwing myself into a situation that I am completely uncomfortable with. I can recall the first few months of work at AT&Tizzle being pretty awful. I wasn’t familiar with anything around me and I thought I was in over my head. At about this point my boss at the time said something that for some reason resonated with me:

“We’re going to throw you into the deep end and you’re going to sink or learn to swim.”

Luckily I somehow pulled my shit together and figured it out but as chaotic as it may have seemed at times back then I think that’s the best way for me to learn; just throw me in.

I’m not sure what Jamin’s true intentions were on inviting me to that bachelor party. I mean was it for my own good to get over my intimidation of black women, or to open me up to new experiences, or even revenge for all the kids at Southeastern calling him Ricky Williams at my brother’s football game? Whatever it is it felt a lot like how BMD came into my life.

Yep no symptoms before the manic episode, no genetics in the family, then a severely manic psychotic episode to kick it all off, hallucinations, delusions, psych ward admittance; yeah I’d say I got thrown right into it but I think I’m swimming (at least doggie paddling).

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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