“Why are you down there?”
“Well Jen, last night on the walk back to the dorm from the bar you decided to punch me in the face so I decided to sleep on the floor.”
“Haha, no I didn’t. I don’t remember that.”
“Oh yeah you definitely did it. The people behind us found it pretty entertaining as well. I can’t believe the first person to sucker punch me was my girlfriend…”
Ah first loves, they seem to do so much more for us than we realize at the time. I had no idea taking a right hook from my first love could actually pay off in the long run, but it has (well my dignity is still a little roughed up but you’ll have that). The other day on Sirius (those clever bastards put satellite in my new Jeep so of course I’m addicted now and will have to renew) I heard a song that reminded me of my first girlfriend Jen (Radio Edit) and I’d like to share some of those memories with you now.
I remember when we took our first vacation together in Panama City and you convinced me to get a tattoo on my lower back. I’m pretty sure you knew the tramp stamp would become the international symbol of sluts within a couple years (so um yeah, in hindsight that was a pretty bitchy move).
I remember when you were too tired to go out on my 21st so we watched a movie and you fell asleep before midnight contrary to getting wrecked (or maybe even laid) like every other 21st birthday being celebrated that night (so um yeah, in hindsight that was a pretty bitchy move).
I remember when you never came to the Witt bubble so I always came “uptown” (there’s barely a town in Oxford let alone the need to differentiate between uptown and downtown) to Miami so often that when we split all the girls at Witt had never seen me so they assumed I was a freshmen and didn’t talk to me for a year (so um yeah, in hindsight that was a pretty bitchy move).
I remember when I drove to Miami for your track meet and then we went out, you gave me a pair of sandals as a random gift, we had sex (you probably faked it, remember admitting that too), and then you broke my heart (so um yeah, in hindsight that was a pretty bitchy move).
I know it sounds like I’m ripping my ex a ton here but that’s only because I am. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing; in fact I’m really glad it happened. If I didn’t go through all of that (and more) I wouldn’t be anywhere ready to fight the fight I’m in now. Sure Jen messed with my head but what first love doesn’t? I needed some of that tough love because what I’m fighting now isn’t out to break my heart, it’s out to break my spirit and take my soul. So while I may have a Super Sweet Back Tat, a slight complex in bed, a bit of hatred with J. Crew U, or the unsettling fear of a phantom right cross taking me out they all are exactly what I needed (well the complex in bed thing I’m still unsure about, but three out of four ain’t bad).
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
Friday, February 25, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 7
I was at the gym yesterday and other than creepily staring at the slamming hot body trainer’s legs from afar, I was there actually working out. I hadn’t been in the gym for awhile so I really forgot about locker room etiquette. I was bending down untying my shoes after my workout when I came up slowly and suddenly I froze up like a deer in headlights; only I was frozen and staring down the shaft of an old man’s penis. It was as bad as it sounds. I wanted to look away but the steaming pile of geriatric dong was memorizing. I wondered just how many stories it had and the places it had been. It was like a horrific car wreck that I couldn’t look away from. Then all of a sudden it winked at me, I shit you not. The hole opened and shut plain as day. Then it did it again, open and shut. Then a long open count and shut. Winking a few more times then shutting. All of a sudden I hear a grumpy old voice bellow:
“It’s Morse Code for stop staring at my dick!”
Those old guys know all the tricks.
Ok, Ok that really didn’t happen but I will say enough of that story is true that you should still feel pretty sorry for me. I have been working out more and it’s not only because of the slamming body trainer either. The docs suggest working out and staying as active as possible to help with the mania and what not. It’s always toughest to do during the winter though (probably a reason I’ve been feeling down lately). Not only does it help with the BMD but I definitely need to get in shape for the upcoming soccer season.
I’m playing on a team this spring with some peeps from high school so it should be a blast. I really need to get into shape though because the last time I played organized soccer I fell on my face about three times and came home with the best shiner I’ve ever had (literally ate the ball, what can I say I’m an athlete.) I think it’s the little things of working out and playing some soccer with old friends I need to break me out of this funk.
I’ll admit it I’m not good at handling bouts of depression. The mania with the craziness and what not is a piece of cake compared to the way depression crushes my world around me and suffocates me. Maybe it’s because I’ve had the mania my entire life and never really understood what it was inside. I mean how do you compare those feelings, thoughts, and emotions to other kids when no one in the world really understands them (which reminds me how can anyone be an expert in Bipolar Disorder, no one in the world knows what the hell it is). I’m not sure the exact reason but I do know depression is a bitch.
After a few minutes of consideration I’ve decided that I am going to ask out the slamming hot body trainer but I have to be creative and unique. I’m sure she’s approached consistently by guys wearing baseball caps when they work out and shooting up in the locker room so I have to make a lasting impression. This is going to be difficult because I don’t even know her name but I love a challenge (first thing first though, I gotta learn Morse Code).
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
“It’s Morse Code for stop staring at my dick!”
Those old guys know all the tricks.
Ok, Ok that really didn’t happen but I will say enough of that story is true that you should still feel pretty sorry for me. I have been working out more and it’s not only because of the slamming body trainer either. The docs suggest working out and staying as active as possible to help with the mania and what not. It’s always toughest to do during the winter though (probably a reason I’ve been feeling down lately). Not only does it help with the BMD but I definitely need to get in shape for the upcoming soccer season.
I’m playing on a team this spring with some peeps from high school so it should be a blast. I really need to get into shape though because the last time I played organized soccer I fell on my face about three times and came home with the best shiner I’ve ever had (literally ate the ball, what can I say I’m an athlete.) I think it’s the little things of working out and playing some soccer with old friends I need to break me out of this funk.
I’ll admit it I’m not good at handling bouts of depression. The mania with the craziness and what not is a piece of cake compared to the way depression crushes my world around me and suffocates me. Maybe it’s because I’ve had the mania my entire life and never really understood what it was inside. I mean how do you compare those feelings, thoughts, and emotions to other kids when no one in the world really understands them (which reminds me how can anyone be an expert in Bipolar Disorder, no one in the world knows what the hell it is). I’m not sure the exact reason but I do know depression is a bitch.
After a few minutes of consideration I’ve decided that I am going to ask out the slamming hot body trainer but I have to be creative and unique. I’m sure she’s approached consistently by guys wearing baseball caps when they work out and shooting up in the locker room so I have to make a lasting impression. This is going to be difficult because I don’t even know her name but I love a challenge (first thing first though, I gotta learn Morse Code).
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
Friday, February 11, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 6
Happy Early Valentine’s Day Ladies!
Name: Derek L. Thompson
Wearing: Burberry Trunks ($225)
Also Known As: “That Guy”
Can Be Found: Disregarding His Life
Yeah, he must workout. This was my calendar spread for “The Seven Wonders of the World“ 2004 edition from my study abroad experience (I left my number on Valentine’s Day in the calendar but no one ever called). I pulled this beauty out of storage the other day after watching a little bit of the Travel Channel’s 10 Sexiest Beaches (surprisingly Enon Beach didn’t make the cut).
What my depression enjoys to do to me is basically trap my mind on what I don’t have in my life right now. Dwelling over the “what ifs” in my life. Then taking me to those places in my mind where they still exist as a reality. It’s difficult to explain but the bottom line is that it sucks and I would like to move on. I can usually pull myself out of these downward shame spirals within a few minutes but the big depression has been laying it on pretty thick lately.
So the other night I was flipping through the channels and watching me lose $50 on the damn Missouri/Kansas game when I spotted the 10 Sexiest Beaches show. I immediately stopped because I’ve been having a pretty rough year so far and thought some bikinis couldn’t hurt the situation (and I was right). #6 on the list was Bondi Beach in Sydney Australia (what a coincidence that’s the beach I lived on, no wonder it’s number 6 and not 7 on the list, you’re welcome Australia).
I was able to live in one of the greatest places in the world for 6 months and go to the sixth sexist beach basically every day. Literally that’s all I did (well there may have been some other activities sprinkled in, pot cookies in the airport…). I ask you if you had the option of riding two buses (with a connection) for 45 minutes to sit in a lecture hall for an hour then hop those buses back (plus you just needed 50% to pass and all courses were pass/fail, danke very much Witt) or sit on a topless beach in Sydney Australia with Aussie women surrounding you, which would you do? (that’s a rhetorical question by the way)
I’ve been able to experience things in my life I don’t think I ever would of imagined growing up in South Chuck. I’m pretty damn lucky and need to start appreciating that and get out of this funk (it’s starting to get annoying). One quick last thing; to put all the rumors to rest, yes there have been discussions about the Seven Wonders of the World considering a comeback calendar (I really, really need to hit the gym).
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
Name: Derek L. Thompson
Wearing: Burberry Trunks ($225)
Also Known As: “That Guy”
Can Be Found: Disregarding His Life
Yeah, he must workout. This was my calendar spread for “The Seven Wonders of the World“ 2004 edition from my study abroad experience (I left my number on Valentine’s Day in the calendar but no one ever called). I pulled this beauty out of storage the other day after watching a little bit of the Travel Channel’s 10 Sexiest Beaches (surprisingly Enon Beach didn’t make the cut).
What my depression enjoys to do to me is basically trap my mind on what I don’t have in my life right now. Dwelling over the “what ifs” in my life. Then taking me to those places in my mind where they still exist as a reality. It’s difficult to explain but the bottom line is that it sucks and I would like to move on. I can usually pull myself out of these downward shame spirals within a few minutes but the big depression has been laying it on pretty thick lately.
So the other night I was flipping through the channels and watching me lose $50 on the damn Missouri/Kansas game when I spotted the 10 Sexiest Beaches show. I immediately stopped because I’ve been having a pretty rough year so far and thought some bikinis couldn’t hurt the situation (and I was right). #6 on the list was Bondi Beach in Sydney Australia (what a coincidence that’s the beach I lived on, no wonder it’s number 6 and not 7 on the list, you’re welcome Australia).
I was able to live in one of the greatest places in the world for 6 months and go to the sixth sexist beach basically every day. Literally that’s all I did (well there may have been some other activities sprinkled in, pot cookies in the airport…). I ask you if you had the option of riding two buses (with a connection) for 45 minutes to sit in a lecture hall for an hour then hop those buses back (plus you just needed 50% to pass and all courses were pass/fail, danke very much Witt) or sit on a topless beach in Sydney Australia with Aussie women surrounding you, which would you do? (that’s a rhetorical question by the way)
I’ve been able to experience things in my life I don’t think I ever would of imagined growing up in South Chuck. I’m pretty damn lucky and need to start appreciating that and get out of this funk (it’s starting to get annoying). One quick last thing; to put all the rumors to rest, yes there have been discussions about the Seven Wonders of the World considering a comeback calendar (I really, really need to hit the gym).
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
Monday, February 7, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 5
Believe
I’d like to welcome my readers to my manic experience
Where my doc insists that in order to survive I’ve got to find new ways to fight
So I get down on my knees, look up to the sky and ask God why
Why did he put this evil pain so deep down inside
Was I not a good servant, were my sins too adulterous to hide
Just then it hits me, it’s my mania behind this game
Which means I've got vengeance on my mind and something to say
I may be crazy but that grain still runs through these veins
Which is just my complicated way to say I’m a country boy to the core
And that’s just something that ain’t never gonna change
So when you had me defeated and asking not to wake when I pray
My family swooped in and saved the day
Reached down into my darkness and pulled me up out of my grave
So I could spit out those pills to live to fight another day
Remember how you took that girl that I once hated with all my might
And shifted her into that girl I’d protect with all my life
Taking something so simple as an insignificant paper clip
And having it trigger me further down into my psychotic manic trip
Where my dreams become reality as I get lost in my own singularity
While you plant the seed of divinity deep within the essence of me
Of a chosen one who was sent to make all believe
Only to wake up cold, crying, and alone on the psych ward’s bathroom floor
But I’ve picked myself up just to let you know I fear you no more
Finally standing on my own two legs, looking you dead in the eyes
And letting you know I’m the one here who's looking for a fight
Oh and that girl you had me chasing through my mind
Racing so fast that I thought I stopped time
Well I gave her the most important thing you took from me
See I gave her the choice on how involved she wants to be
In this insanity that they call you and me
And suddenly it’s clear to me
I’m becoming the man I was always undoubtedly destined to be
Standing before thee on my day of judgment
With Christopher on my left and the Good Witch Glinda on my right
I’ve made peace with the Man upstairs so ya know who's back he's got in this fight
We’ll see how you like living within the shadows of the darkness of your fear and your fright
Because once I possess the light, I’ll pass it on to illuminate the night
And I’ll take my vengeance when we meet in the afterlife
So listen, because the only sound you’re bound to hear
will be my chant in the night as I march towards our fight
Ohhhhhh weeeee Oh-Oooooooooh Oh
I’ll be stomping with a chip on my shoulder and another one on my knee
I’m the man behind the curtain sent to make all believe.
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
I’d like to welcome my readers to my manic experience
Where my doc insists that in order to survive I’ve got to find new ways to fight
So I get down on my knees, look up to the sky and ask God why
Why did he put this evil pain so deep down inside
Was I not a good servant, were my sins too adulterous to hide
Just then it hits me, it’s my mania behind this game
Which means I've got vengeance on my mind and something to say
I may be crazy but that grain still runs through these veins
Which is just my complicated way to say I’m a country boy to the core
And that’s just something that ain’t never gonna change
So when you had me defeated and asking not to wake when I pray
My family swooped in and saved the day
Reached down into my darkness and pulled me up out of my grave
So I could spit out those pills to live to fight another day
Remember how you took that girl that I once hated with all my might
And shifted her into that girl I’d protect with all my life
Taking something so simple as an insignificant paper clip
And having it trigger me further down into my psychotic manic trip
Where my dreams become reality as I get lost in my own singularity
While you plant the seed of divinity deep within the essence of me
Of a chosen one who was sent to make all believe
Only to wake up cold, crying, and alone on the psych ward’s bathroom floor
But I’ve picked myself up just to let you know I fear you no more
Finally standing on my own two legs, looking you dead in the eyes
And letting you know I’m the one here who's looking for a fight
Oh and that girl you had me chasing through my mind
Racing so fast that I thought I stopped time
Well I gave her the most important thing you took from me
See I gave her the choice on how involved she wants to be
In this insanity that they call you and me
And suddenly it’s clear to me
I’m becoming the man I was always undoubtedly destined to be
Standing before thee on my day of judgment
With Christopher on my left and the Good Witch Glinda on my right
I’ve made peace with the Man upstairs so ya know who's back he's got in this fight
We’ll see how you like living within the shadows of the darkness of your fear and your fright
Because once I possess the light, I’ll pass it on to illuminate the night
And I’ll take my vengeance when we meet in the afterlife
So listen, because the only sound you’re bound to hear
will be my chant in the night as I march towards our fight
Ohhhhhh weeeee Oh-Oooooooooh Oh
I’ll be stomping with a chip on my shoulder and another one on my knee
I’m the man behind the curtain sent to make all believe.
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
Friday, February 4, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 4
Ok about 3 new Sports Illustrated (I really don’t care much for Rick Reilly now that I can hear his voice).
ESPN the Magazine (why is this magazine always so much bigger than everything else in the mail).
Credit Card offer (yeah that’s what I need, credit card debt in my life)
W2 (ok so I use to make this much money in a pay period at the tizzle, makes me feel good about myself)
U.S. Olympics Team news letter (they gave me address stickers, with the wrong address)
Ohio Department of Mental Health survey (they prob. picked the wrong random participant).
So come to find out karma really does exist because as soon as I got my W2 in the mail and was reminded on how little I do with my life something good happens to me. Out of something like 80 thousand “patients” I was one of like 6,000 to be randomly selected to participate in this year’s survey to determine just how well the ODMH serviced me last year (mind you these are the same people who tried to put me in rehab, outpatient rehab but dammit that’s still rehab in my eyes). I could barely contain my excitement as I drove back from Mom’s (I’m a nomadic renegade who’s moved 7 times in the last 5 years, so my mail is delivered basically scattered throughout the country, pain-in-the-ass).
I didn’t open the survey that night, I thought it best to sleep on it (probably should have slept on it a couple nights in hindsight). I didn’t exactly rate the ODMH very highly because they literally made my life more difficult to live. I was flying through the fill in the blank scale questions and I wished that the survey was on the old Scantrons. That way when they analyzed the results when they slid my survey through the machine all they’d hear where those clicks. I use to love hearing those clicks in the hall whenever I’d pass the teacher’s lounge, always meant someone bombed. Wow I’m off topic, I was answering questions about their administrative performance, parking at the office, ease of finding office, responsiveness, and of course how I’m doing in result of the services provided (strongly disagree down the board).
The last section was titled Please answer the following questions to let us know how you are doing. I was thinking great they’re going to check on my condition (they hadn’t asked that yet), you know my age, sex, mental health condition I have, living conditions, work conditions, social interactions, self-esteem levels, happiness levels, ect. Wrong, they only asked two questions:
Are you still getting mental health services? (yes)
How long have you received mental health services from your provider?
a. Less than a year (continue to question 39)
b. One year or more (continue to question 42
Questions 39-41 and questions 42-44 were the same, the ODMH only wanted to know if I had been arrested anytime in the previous two years and the occurrences of my encounters with the police over the past year. Even though there was not a space provided for comment I let the surveyors know how I felt about those last few questions:
“The simple fact you ask about my police record more than my health record is insulting. This is once again a total waste of tax revenue! Instead of focusing on improving this health sector, you would rather investigate mental health relationships with drugs, crime, ect…PATHETIC!!!”
Really glad I waited a day to cool down before doing that survey.
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
ESPN the Magazine (why is this magazine always so much bigger than everything else in the mail).
Credit Card offer (yeah that’s what I need, credit card debt in my life)
W2 (ok so I use to make this much money in a pay period at the tizzle, makes me feel good about myself)
U.S. Olympics Team news letter (they gave me address stickers, with the wrong address)
Ohio Department of Mental Health survey (they prob. picked the wrong random participant).
So come to find out karma really does exist because as soon as I got my W2 in the mail and was reminded on how little I do with my life something good happens to me. Out of something like 80 thousand “patients” I was one of like 6,000 to be randomly selected to participate in this year’s survey to determine just how well the ODMH serviced me last year (mind you these are the same people who tried to put me in rehab, outpatient rehab but dammit that’s still rehab in my eyes). I could barely contain my excitement as I drove back from Mom’s (I’m a nomadic renegade who’s moved 7 times in the last 5 years, so my mail is delivered basically scattered throughout the country, pain-in-the-ass).
I didn’t open the survey that night, I thought it best to sleep on it (probably should have slept on it a couple nights in hindsight). I didn’t exactly rate the ODMH very highly because they literally made my life more difficult to live. I was flying through the fill in the blank scale questions and I wished that the survey was on the old Scantrons. That way when they analyzed the results when they slid my survey through the machine all they’d hear where those clicks. I use to love hearing those clicks in the hall whenever I’d pass the teacher’s lounge, always meant someone bombed. Wow I’m off topic, I was answering questions about their administrative performance, parking at the office, ease of finding office, responsiveness, and of course how I’m doing in result of the services provided (strongly disagree down the board).
The last section was titled Please answer the following questions to let us know how you are doing. I was thinking great they’re going to check on my condition (they hadn’t asked that yet), you know my age, sex, mental health condition I have, living conditions, work conditions, social interactions, self-esteem levels, happiness levels, ect. Wrong, they only asked two questions:
Are you still getting mental health services? (yes)
How long have you received mental health services from your provider?
a. Less than a year (continue to question 39)
b. One year or more (continue to question 42
Questions 39-41 and questions 42-44 were the same, the ODMH only wanted to know if I had been arrested anytime in the previous two years and the occurrences of my encounters with the police over the past year. Even though there was not a space provided for comment I let the surveyors know how I felt about those last few questions:
“The simple fact you ask about my police record more than my health record is insulting. This is once again a total waste of tax revenue! Instead of focusing on improving this health sector, you would rather investigate mental health relationships with drugs, crime, ect…PATHETIC!!!”
Really glad I waited a day to cool down before doing that survey.
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
Friday, January 28, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 3
The past couple of weeks haven’t been the best for me, I’m not sure if I’m in depression, recovering from the Rockies still, or if it’s just my BMD wrecking havoc on my life again. I try to stay optimistic and have a positive outlook into the future during these bleak times, but it can be the most difficult thing to do at those times (well that and trying not to get caught staring at the slamming body trainer at the gym, oh yea she knows I’m looking). In any case I try to remind myself of everything I do have when my mind gets trapped on what I don’t. That I have it pretty good and there are a lot of people out there struggling more than me.
I wasn’t quite sure if I’d ever share this story before a couple days ago, that’s mainly because it’s not entirely my story to tell. There’s a girl (when isn’t there, right?), well not any girl but my prom date (and maybe a little bit of a crush) from my junior year. This girl I remember was smart, shockingly funny, of course a knock out, that always smiled (even at my stupid poems, how do you think I asked her to prom), and the confidence to match yours truly. Years passed after school and we went our separate ways until I went manic the first time.
I caught her show one night and the girl on TV was far from the one I could remember from high school. She was in the fight of her life, she was in hell…
Feb. 24th, 2008
Friends,
Some of you know me, but I imagine the majority of you do knot…it makes really no difference as I am of no significance for the purpose of this letter aside from the hope that it may prove to provide some help some way some day…I am sitting in the San Jose’s AIR awaiting my flite back to Denver, CO and decided to jot some ideas down, as I await the arrival of our plane…While I live in Denver I am originally from a small town in rural Ohio by the name of South Charleston (yes I do mean OH and not SC, WV or any other of the multiple “Charlestons” throughout)…I am riting now as it has become clear to me how fortunate I, as well as many of us, are…yet it seems as fortunate as we are we miss out on the important things in life…what those are to you, the gentleman beside me or the cowgirl? (tough to differentiate from afar) sitting across the way are I don’t know…but I know I am missing…Live downtown Denver in a pretty nice apt, recently purchased a BMW X5, amazing friends, and a great family…please know I am not writing this to impress anyone, but rather to hopefully inspire someone…
Inspiration is a word that I believe many of us struggle with…I have had the ultimate opp. 2 travel around the globe for work, play, and study…however even with my experiences I still lacked something…what that is I could not say till now…not cuz I did not want to, but rather b/c I did not know…the past few days have been pretty damn exciting for me…I am moving from Denver 2 CA for a new job opp. I have been working 3 yrs to achieve and now! get to finally live w/in an hour of a beach…while this may seem modest to some pls realize that central OH is not the ideal place for h2o sports…
Looking back on the times and trials that have brought me to this place I could BORE many for hours over my experiences, but what’s the point? Who has not felt pain, joy, fear, pleasure, disappointment, jealously, rage, excitement, enthusiasm, ect…I have yet to meet anyone along my way that has not…but what I have found is that my fondest memories are the ones in Kindergarten (my 2nd time, they redshirted me my 1st yr)…the values and colors I experienced came rushing back to me…now reflecting back I wish it didin’t take 2X for me to get thru kindergarten, I wish I was still there…
Well we all know that’s impossible (unless you’re a kindergarten cop or teach)…while I’ve contemplated both these options, they just didn’t fit me…so I’ve decided to try and change..
I had the pleasure of escorting this young lady to her Sr. Prom (my Jr yr, member redshirt Kindergarten)…I started to remember what a great time we all had at the Prom (Prom promise that) and seeing how Em and her fam are now hurts and I want to help…but how?...no idea right now, but maybe, just maybe, showing that we care is a start…
I didn’t sign this letter but instead started doodling .e4 logos and missions statements (oh d01roK you crazy guy you). Less than a week after writing this letter in my gournal I was in the Porter Hospital’s Psych Ward. I’ve been able to catch up with Em and actually got to spend Halloween hanging out (seems a fitting Holiday for us two to share). I haven’t talked to her in awhile and I hope she’s doing alright; she’s about the only one I know that can relate to me. I hope she knows I still see the same girl I crushed on in high school.
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
I wasn’t quite sure if I’d ever share this story before a couple days ago, that’s mainly because it’s not entirely my story to tell. There’s a girl (when isn’t there, right?), well not any girl but my prom date (and maybe a little bit of a crush) from my junior year. This girl I remember was smart, shockingly funny, of course a knock out, that always smiled (even at my stupid poems, how do you think I asked her to prom), and the confidence to match yours truly. Years passed after school and we went our separate ways until I went manic the first time.
I caught her show one night and the girl on TV was far from the one I could remember from high school. She was in the fight of her life, she was in hell…
Feb. 24th, 2008
Friends,
Some of you know me, but I imagine the majority of you do knot…it makes really no difference as I am of no significance for the purpose of this letter aside from the hope that it may prove to provide some help some way some day…I am sitting in the San Jose’s AIR awaiting my flite back to Denver, CO and decided to jot some ideas down, as I await the arrival of our plane…While I live in Denver I am originally from a small town in rural Ohio by the name of South Charleston (yes I do mean OH and not SC, WV or any other of the multiple “Charlestons” throughout)…I am riting now as it has become clear to me how fortunate I, as well as many of us, are…yet it seems as fortunate as we are we miss out on the important things in life…what those are to you, the gentleman beside me or the cowgirl? (tough to differentiate from afar) sitting across the way are I don’t know…but I know I am missing…Live downtown Denver in a pretty nice apt, recently purchased a BMW X5, amazing friends, and a great family…please know I am not writing this to impress anyone, but rather to hopefully inspire someone…
Inspiration is a word that I believe many of us struggle with…I have had the ultimate opp. 2 travel around the globe for work, play, and study…however even with my experiences I still lacked something…what that is I could not say till now…not cuz I did not want to, but rather b/c I did not know…the past few days have been pretty damn exciting for me…I am moving from Denver 2 CA for a new job opp. I have been working 3 yrs to achieve and now! get to finally live w/in an hour of a beach…while this may seem modest to some pls realize that central OH is not the ideal place for h2o sports…
Looking back on the times and trials that have brought me to this place I could BORE many for hours over my experiences, but what’s the point? Who has not felt pain, joy, fear, pleasure, disappointment, jealously, rage, excitement, enthusiasm, ect…I have yet to meet anyone along my way that has not…but what I have found is that my fondest memories are the ones in Kindergarten (my 2nd time, they redshirted me my 1st yr)…the values and colors I experienced came rushing back to me…now reflecting back I wish it didin’t take 2X for me to get thru kindergarten, I wish I was still there…
Well we all know that’s impossible (unless you’re a kindergarten cop or teach)…while I’ve contemplated both these options, they just didn’t fit me…so I’ve decided to try and change..
I had the pleasure of escorting this young lady to her Sr. Prom (my Jr yr, member redshirt Kindergarten)…I started to remember what a great time we all had at the Prom (Prom promise that) and seeing how Em and her fam are now hurts and I want to help…but how?...no idea right now, but maybe, just maybe, showing that we care is a start…
I didn’t sign this letter but instead started doodling .e4 logos and missions statements (oh d01roK you crazy guy you). Less than a week after writing this letter in my gournal I was in the Porter Hospital’s Psych Ward. I’ve been able to catch up with Em and actually got to spend Halloween hanging out (seems a fitting Holiday for us two to share). I haven’t talked to her in awhile and I hope she’s doing alright; she’s about the only one I know that can relate to me. I hope she knows I still see the same girl I crushed on in high school.
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
Friday, January 21, 2011
Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 2
I’d try to run my hands under the water but they burned so immensely I had to pull them back. The backside of my hands felt raw, dry, cracked, and sensitive to the touch. At night I would have to sleep with my hands above my head because the slightest brush against the pillow or blanket would jolt me awake from the pain. At the time I believed the red blotches on my hands were marks of stigmata, a sign that I was chosen (I’m not sure if all this was in my head or what, que-evs).
This is one of the few good memories I have from my last few months in Denver (doesn’t really sound that good outloud). Poncho and Tater (I wish I was making those nicknames up) had come out to visit in early 2008 and we spent the weekend in the mountains (snowmobiling, jager bombs, and boots with da fur). Other than being manic everything in my life was going pretty well (aside from the love life, but when has that been good) and I was happy with taking essentially a promotion, moving to California (definitely living in a bungalow by the beach), looking at Master programs, and after nearly 3 years I was finally feeling comfortable at the tizzle. The trip into the mountains was a celebration of sorts filled with booze, sarcasm, and 3 white country boys from Ohio giving that big booty a smack!
The next few months kind of went in the opposite direction with the whole manic episode ordeal. Since that mountain “adventure” I’m not sure I can say I’ve been truly happy (and yes I tried Happy Meals but they didn’t help, Stubby still makes me share straws when we order) and when I landed in Denver a few weeks back a little part of me hoped that I’d find happiness while I was there. I was hoping I would see the snow capped mountains glistening in the sun and I’d know that I was suppose to be there. In my mind maybe I dreamed that I’d land and drive to Denver and know this was the place I was meant to start over. What better place to rebuild my life than the very place I lost everything?
It wasn’t like that at all, on my flight in and viewing the mountains all I could think about was that one year ago to the day I was being admitted to the psych ward (Southside!) in the Nasty. When I drove the streets of Denver I didn’t feel connected or a sense of new beginnings. I remembered walking/jogging/skipping/climbing trees/running about in the city. That I couldn’t stay in the light for more than a few seconds without my shoes melting/sticking to the pavement. I was part demonic, a hybrid crusader, with uncanny heightened senses but yet fearful of the sun like a nocturnal beast.
The memories of Washington Park with the Witt kids (plus Tronby, he’s basically alumni), shows, late nights, mini bowling, Tuesday night bowling, dance-offs downtown, drinking spit at a Rockies game, watching Tronby get blasted by a homerun at the Rockies game on TV, cookouts, kegs in the apartment pool, parties on the roof, deep frying, dueling pianos, and the list could go on and on never really came flying back like I hoped.
The only moment that I felt nothing, the time when all my worries disappeared, when I was truly at peace happened when I was driving to the tizzle to meet some old friends for lunch. I had stopped at my old apartment to view the garage I tried to drive the big body beamer off (still standing after that impact, impressive). I remembered the back way to the office with no troubles and about half way there I got caught up in the drive. I stopped worrying about my mania and started living. My mind cleared and I was finally at peace after 3 years of hell. This feeling only lasted a few seconds, a moment, but I had forgot how nice it felt to be free.
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
This is one of the few good memories I have from my last few months in Denver (doesn’t really sound that good outloud). Poncho and Tater (I wish I was making those nicknames up) had come out to visit in early 2008 and we spent the weekend in the mountains (snowmobiling, jager bombs, and boots with da fur). Other than being manic everything in my life was going pretty well (aside from the love life, but when has that been good) and I was happy with taking essentially a promotion, moving to California (definitely living in a bungalow by the beach), looking at Master programs, and after nearly 3 years I was finally feeling comfortable at the tizzle. The trip into the mountains was a celebration of sorts filled with booze, sarcasm, and 3 white country boys from Ohio giving that big booty a smack!
The next few months kind of went in the opposite direction with the whole manic episode ordeal. Since that mountain “adventure” I’m not sure I can say I’ve been truly happy (and yes I tried Happy Meals but they didn’t help, Stubby still makes me share straws when we order) and when I landed in Denver a few weeks back a little part of me hoped that I’d find happiness while I was there. I was hoping I would see the snow capped mountains glistening in the sun and I’d know that I was suppose to be there. In my mind maybe I dreamed that I’d land and drive to Denver and know this was the place I was meant to start over. What better place to rebuild my life than the very place I lost everything?
It wasn’t like that at all, on my flight in and viewing the mountains all I could think about was that one year ago to the day I was being admitted to the psych ward (Southside!) in the Nasty. When I drove the streets of Denver I didn’t feel connected or a sense of new beginnings. I remembered walking/jogging/skipping/climbing trees/running about in the city. That I couldn’t stay in the light for more than a few seconds without my shoes melting/sticking to the pavement. I was part demonic, a hybrid crusader, with uncanny heightened senses but yet fearful of the sun like a nocturnal beast.
The memories of Washington Park with the Witt kids (plus Tronby, he’s basically alumni), shows, late nights, mini bowling, Tuesday night bowling, dance-offs downtown, drinking spit at a Rockies game, watching Tronby get blasted by a homerun at the Rockies game on TV, cookouts, kegs in the apartment pool, parties on the roof, deep frying, dueling pianos, and the list could go on and on never really came flying back like I hoped.
The only moment that I felt nothing, the time when all my worries disappeared, when I was truly at peace happened when I was driving to the tizzle to meet some old friends for lunch. I had stopped at my old apartment to view the garage I tried to drive the big body beamer off (still standing after that impact, impressive). I remembered the back way to the office with no troubles and about half way there I got caught up in the drive. I stopped worrying about my mania and started living. My mind cleared and I was finally at peace after 3 years of hell. This feeling only lasted a few seconds, a moment, but I had forgot how nice it felt to be free.
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
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