Derek Thompson's Blog, page 2

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 4 Issue 29

Before the scoreboard controller had the time to put the 1 up on the score for the Giants in the NLDS yesterday I was already bitching.
“Game Over. Fire Dusty. Biggest collapse in National League Divisional Series history.”
I was just a bucket of optimism yesterday. So much so that even the bartender was throwing jabs at me for my lack of confidence and fan-hood (wasn’t even drinking). It was bad; I was being a little bitch (at least I didn’t call myself a little cu…mmm, ok maybe that’s too much).
I was driving around the country yesterday because I also hate grocery shopping for some reason right now and I needed to eat when I started to daydream. I have all the reasons in the world to be in a good mood right now. I mean I’m finishing up my Masters and graduating (not too shabby for a psych ward stay mixed in that time), I’m moving down to the ATL soon and will finally be healthy (or as close to it as possible) for the first time in four years. But yet I bitch.
I couldn’t figure it out why I was being such a moody prick all of sudden in the past couple weeks. I should be excited and looking forward to the coming weeks like tailgating the UGA v. Florida game at “The World’s Largest Cocktail Party” but I just couldn’t. Then for some reason I recalled what a Witt Abnormal Psych student had said to me when I visited her class:
“It seems when you’re in depression in your book. Your sentence structure is simpler; there isn’t the creative description like in the other sections. It just seems that you can sense the depression in your writing at the beginning.”
Prior to hearing this I hadn’t ever really considered that the Big D could affect me so much that it could be seen in my writing. But after the description from the student she was definitely right and I think I’m unfortunately starting into depression again. It was about this time last year that I had troubles and if my BMD isn’t one thing it’s a cyclical punk ass (also it’s kind of a bitch).
I think maybe I got a little too comfortable because things were going so well. I mean I listed all the reasons for being positively optimistic in my life earlier and add on top of that that my book did great in the Abnormal Psych Class at Witt, I’m being reviewed by the NAMI Advocate soon and it should start to feel good to win. But instead I’m consumed by the thoughts of “what if” right now.
What if I can’t find a job? What if I can’t handle the pressures of the job? What if the past four years were what my life will be? What if I end up back on the farm?
I can’t live life like that, hell no one can, let alone someone with a rather severe case of a mood disorder (just not healthy you know). Maybe things were going a little too well for me and I needed to be brought back down to earth. Sometimes I get feeling so good I forget that there’s no cure but it always seems at about this time the Big D is there to remind me. Last year when I was fighting this I would try to divert my attention away from the BS and to focus on the positively optimistic things in my life; like maybe the cowboy boots and skirts tailgating in my near future.                                                                                                                                                                                       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 4 Issue 28

So I’m finishing up week eight of my internship (but they call me a grad assistant which helps with my ego a little) and I’m going to share with you what I've learned thus far. Actually I’m going to start to share with you what I know I shouldn't do in the “professional” world. It’s been a minute (or four years if you want to be a dick about it) since I've held a professional role so I’m a little rusty. Actually I’m down right terrible when it comes to appropriateness.
For example as many would probably know simply by being normal that probably talking about your lack of contraceptive use is inappropriate conversation with college students around. Or making a joke about the age of certain college students to coaches is more than likely a subject I should avoid in locker rooms.
There are a few more but there’s no need for me to give any more evidence of my behavior in case charges are brought up. I’m kidding, but seriously if anyone hears anything a heads up would be greatly appreciated. To be completely honest this whole role as a grad assistant isn’t working out quite as I would have liked (and yes I have been bitching about it a little bit, sorry for ruining lunch yesterday Mom). I think maybe I’ve been grossly inappropriately at times to help deal with the disappointment of not getting out what I was hoping with the intern-excuse me I mean grad assistantship.
No that’s a complete lie; I think I’m just an inappropriate guy at times.
But I have learned some things during these past eight weeks that I don’t think I would have if it wasn’t for my BMD and my third or fourth or fifth (I lost count) attempt to start over. Prior to my diagnosis I was so busy moving forward in my career I totally missed on what was all around me. I mean how in the hell else could you explain how I lived in the damn Rocky Mountains (powder bra powder) and never learned to ski? Or what about while living in Atlanta I never tried grits (ok that one isn’t as good as the first one but you get the point).
I was so concentrated on getting to the next step in life that I was missing out on actually living mine in a way. I think I have learned that lesson in the past couple months because despite my frustrations with paying Xavier University to run Wittenberg University’s concession stands I’m still enjoying my time back on campus. I’m only there for ten weeks and the old self absorbed me (I’m still a little bit though) would have rushed through my time trying to get my degree and move back to Atlanta to finally try grits (yet missing out on once again what was just right around me).
But actually I’ve got to meet some awesome people and even promote my book; the Abnormal Psychology class loved it (except for that little bitch in the back—I kid, I kid). I’m still working  on my patience with this BMD (that’s more than likely a lifelong battle) but I think I’ve learned to appreciate what’s around me a lot more. While I’m inappropriate probably more often than not I think I’m learning to embrace what’s going on around me more rather than focusing just on what’s coming next.
In a crazy way being manic has actually helped me slow down. Instead of rushing through my life trying to get to the next step to achieve whatever milestone “goal” I have I’ve slowed down and am meeting great new people, appreciating the little things more and enjoying being just part of it all. Not too bad of an internship after all I guess, I just need to hold on to it for two more weeks (no more bad sex jokes will probably help that effort).                                                                                                                                                                                       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. 4 Issue 27

I know, I know you haven’t heard from me in a while but I swear I have a good reason for it. Well if  you asked my mom I’m not sure she’d be too thrilled with the reason but all of you but one aren’t my mom so I’ll go ahead and I’ll tell. Aside from feeling really good and not needing a platform to bitch on (yeah I’m talking to you stupid political memes filling my social media) I’ve been concentrating on my new book. One element of this book that Mom wasn’t too thrilled about was self-hypnosis.
Sure my story is going to be fictional (how’s this tag line: A psychotic adventure through a mysterious manic mind) but that doesn’t mean I want it to feel fake. That being the case I need to teach myself hypnosis, the only problem is all the literature I’ve found so far has read that people with mental health issues can’t be hypnotized; we’ll just see about all that now won’t we (I’ll be fine mother).
Speaking of my new book I spent the majority of the past few weeks trying to figure out how to give the reader the manic experience I’m shooting for. I really don’t blame anyone out there for this because if I were in their shoes and met a crazy person like me the first thing I’d want to know is what the episodes are like as well. Although it’s practically impossible for me to totally relate my psychosis to the average reader (mainly because I only remember a few hours of them) I’m trying to decipher ways of telling a story filled with mania to someone who’s never experienced it.
Sounds easy enough doesn’t it (then you go do it) but it’s turning out a little trickier than I first anticipated. I think I’m still in transition from the blog to the trilogy (that’s right I’m trying to ride that sales trend right now). See when I write this blog it’s coming directly from my life in some capacity and if two ideas or themes I want to write about don’t fit together then I can’t write about them. Now on the other hand I’m free to just make shit up; and it’s little bit different and a learning curve.
I’m trying to create the game within the game that I experience in my psychosis from page to page and book to book in the trilogy (did I mention it’s going to be the ever popular fan favorite trilogy yet?).  In order to do this though I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m to going to have to embrace the extremes that Stubby always warned me about in life. He preached a lot of different things growing up and some are useful today (like sit by the drink fountain at Hooters because all the waitresses have to stop there) and some not so useful (anything to do with farming when it came to me) but living in the grey and avoiding the extremes is one of the best.
However when my psychosis takes over that’s exactly opposite of where I live and in order to experience that extreme I’ll have to leave the grey area for insanity yet keep it comprehendible for the reader. Now calm down because I’m sure everyone is hyping the word insanity and being filled with stigma and stereotypes of people in mental institutions but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s living within a world where the extremes are dynamic and insanity and sanity almost morph together in a believable fashion.
On an afterthought shame on you; I thought after three years of writing you’d be done of those stigmas and stereotypes. You’re really going to need to read my new book; don’t worry I’m working on it but it’s definitely why this post isn’t all that good.                                                                                                                                                                                       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 4 Issue 26

Cuzin Art to B Slim: “Yeah cousin Derek had a 100mg Bank roll, a 50mg soda, and a rather Tiger like Swisher Back Sweet today. He was definitely strug-a-ling for a while but I think he’s starting to pull it together now.”
Just on que I stumbled back in the middle of the bar and then knocked off and spilled a completely full drink from the banister.
Cuzin Art in rebuttal to my move to B Slim: “Then again, maybe not.”
It was one of a number of embarrassing moments on my vacation to the Mountains but before I go any further that first story reminds me of a story from my spring break vacation during my 3rd year in college I’d like to share. It was kind of a different spring break because we decided to all (except April) take a cruise rather than Panama City (good thing because I haven’t had the best experiences in that city). Well it was also a little different because every guy on the boat knew me from a night of buying round after round of Snake Bites for them (real straight move by me there).
So after a night of said Snake Bite slamming with the guys from C Deck I decided to attend the karaoke/dance party in the main ballroom/banquet hall/whatever the hell they need space for 500 people for. Something real fresh was playing when I entered the dance floor and started busting my moves. (Sidenote: my friends said the whole ballroom knew I was quite intoxicated because of said dance moves). It was the early 2000’s so I was attempting to probably C-Walk my way across the floor (not successfully) when I slipped and dropped my glass of Vodka and 7 and it shattered across the floor.
Right on que the music stops with a scratch like in the movies, they turn on the house lights and point the spot light on me when the DJ announces over the PA:
“That’s why we don’t bring glass onto the dance floor.”
Without missing a beat my stand up roommate, the second coming of Robert Downey Jr., points at me and yells:
“Boo this man! Boo this man! Booooooooo!”
As I walk off in shame out of the spotlight I’m serenaded with heckling and boos erupting from the entire ballroom crowd. (For the record that was the first and only time I’ve been booed off a dance floor—or at least that I can remember).
While that vacation at sea was fun the week in Denver was a rather good time as well and that’s probably because it started out with Cuzin Art being sucked (excuse me, falling) out of the raft during our trip through the beginner rapids. I don’t care what he tries to tell you there was no river sucking going on and it was definitely the third and still beginning rapid (that’s what you get for shoving my head under the raft; oh that and gonorrhea from swallowing the river water. I guess you’ll now only get to share that curry ice cream with your hand feeder—OK the inside jokes have gone far enough).  
Now that’s not to say that the southern belles still don’t have massive control over me though either but those crunchy wookies are starting to grow on me. The best part of my trip (other than Cuzin Art being the only one to fall into the rapids) was that the entire time I was gone my BMD was just fine. I was a little nervous because I haven’t been really in the cities since my last issues in the Windy City and didn’t know how I’d react. But I didn’t have any problems while I was there and actually was feeling better. That’s good to know because I’m hoping to get back to the city soon, which city is yet to be determined but definitely a city that doesn’t suck (yeah Pittsburgh I’m talking to you; Who Dey is right around the corner!)..                                                                                                                                                                                        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. 4 Issue 25

Well it’s been over three years since I started writing this blog and let me tell you the time has just flown by. When I started writing I had completely lost trust in not only my docs but also my meds (I really don’t have enough time to go into why but I’ll just say they were being bastards). I was living in The Nasty cycling from crying on my bathroom floor to dancing my ass off in the middle of my living room every few minutes; some would say I was a little unstable.
But now I only cry in the bathroom when I get rejected for a date (although that’s more times than I’d like to admit) and I only dance; well I still dance all the time so stop hating. I’ve found my miracle drug of lithium (sorry Big Pharma I know you can’t patent it and make money but it works so I’m using it; I’m also planning on getting even for that so consider yourselves warned) and it’s finally time for me to move on with my life.
I’m starting my internship in a couple weeks for my master’s in sports administration and considering I spent 6 days in a psych ward and believed I ended the world during my studies I’d think I’m doing fairly well. Sure I was convinced that I started the apocalypse and my punishment was to watch my friends, family and all mankind die in front of my eyes as I walked the scorched earth but I mean stop judging me. As tough as it is (not really) I’ve made the very difficult (rather easy actually) decision to take my talents (or lack thereof) back to the South after I graduate.
Since I’m all grown up now and not acting like I’m immature juvenile (well not all the time at least) my schedule is going to start filling up. No more dicking around because life is right around the corner. I’m not sure how much I’m going to be blogging anymore because, well because I think it’s time to move on. I’m still planning on writing every other week or so but I feel like it’s time to focus on my life a little more. Now for my Mom and the few other avid followers have no fear you’ll get your fix becasue I am writing more on the side with different projects. I’ve actually been working on a novel loosely based on my manic experiences. I’m going to try and recreate what it’s like in one of my manic episodes and I’m dubbing it “A psychotic adventure through a mysteriously manic mind.” (sounds pretty good right, well hopefully I can pull it off).
Before I start being part of society again I’m heading on another vacation next week because I’ve only been to Vegas & DC this year.  So obviously I need to hit the ATL and Denver before reentering real life. Before I head out for the next couple weeks I wanted to say thanks for the support and leave you all with an amusing vacation story from Australia (didn’t I tell you I studied abroad in Sydney?).
It’s October and a good number of us ‘Mericans decided to take a spring break trip (southern hemisphere remember; they also have the tradition down under of Santa delivering presents on a surfboard which was cool-the Speedos were a bit much though) to northern Australia. We all were taking a flight up to Cairns to scuba dive in the Great Barrier reef and for me to win a free bungee jump from a bar game (what can I say my frog was a bad ass). Luckily I had visited Nimbin and the old lady selling “special” cookies on the side of the library the week before and had a few of them left for the flight.
There were about fifteen of us all waiting in the security line for the airport for spring break when I decided to get a snack before the flight. I figured if I got a pretty descent buzz for the flight the movie and experience would be so much better. I of course told no one I was eating those “special” cookies and started munching away when a young demon deacon lady asked for one. I of course am a gentleman and gave her one without a word. I’m smirking trying to hold my laughter in as she starts crushing that cookie. She almost finishes when it hits her that they taste a little like something illegal so she spins around to me and asks:
“Are these pot cookies in the airport you crazy bastard?”
I laugh and say:
“Yep, you better finish before we get the security checkpoint and oh you’re welcome. I really think it’s gonna help with this 3 hour flight and a great way to kick off our vacation. I hope they play a good movie on the way up there.”
She just laughed, inhaled the rest and got through security just fine. And you know what? They played “Finding Nemo” on the flight and I swore to God I was one of those sea turtles. I think she thought she was Dory so I’d say all in all it was a rather successful start to my vacation. I’ll see everyone in a few weeks; unless I do something real immature and juvenile like bring pot cookies into the airport (but hey it worked before).                                                                                                                                                                                       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. 4 Issue 24

Happy Belated Birthday America! I forgot to get you something but really what do you give the best country in the world? I did see you doing the walk of shame on Thursday back from Brazil’s place so I’ll keep that between us as my present; besides it was your birthday and everyone needs a little lovin’ on their birthday (I always knew you were a sucker for the Portuguese language).
I think that’s about enough of that awful joke because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one laughing about it (I’m easily entertained and for the record I’d have the stride of pride going if I nailed a Brazilian so no worries America). I did catch my first fireworks show in awhile on Wednesday and I was pleasantly surprised. I caught the show at Yellow Springs and Dave Chappelle was there and he was dressed up like Prince and running around with sparklers in both hands (it was hilarious).
Not only was it funny but I felt like it was my obligation to mention Dave Chappelle whenever I’m talking about Yellow Springs. In all seriousness those crunchy wookie’s put on one hell of a firework show. On the walk over to the park I was pretty pumped to see some palm tree fireworks because they were my favorite for some unknown reason. After watching the show I’ve changed my favorite to what I’m calling the “Unexpected Boom” (similar to my favorite basketball play of the unexpected out of bounds alley-oop).
My hat goes go to the Chinese who are ordered to work in the firework warehouse by their government because those communist fools know their shit (I mean they did invent the damn things though). I will admit I was a little skeptical of the show because Yellow Springs just didn’t seem like the town that would bring it with blowing shit up but I once again I was pleasantly surprised. The town actually lets you sit 50 yards away from the launch point so their blowing that shit up right over your head.
There wasn’t any palm trees in the show this year and I was slightly disappointed because what doesn’t scream independence and freedom like a palm tree firework made in China? However they did drop a few “Unexpected Booms” on us that were pretty nice. These are the fireworks that they fire but don’t have a tail on the way up so they’re incognito ninja style shooting up into the sky. Then you all of a sudden see the giant firework from like out of nowhere and just as you’re getting over the surprise guerrilla explosion in the sky the boom comes that rattles your chest (right then I feel like an American). The “Unexpected Boom” definitely is my new favorite.
The last firework show I tried to see was a couple years back in Chicago and we thought checking them out downtown by the pier with the lake right there would be cool. It probably would have been if we would have been on the right side of the pier (we basically missed the entire show). At that point in my life I was living in the City of Wind and at my Sports Marketing internship just a few months away my Master’s and hopeful career and life in the Midwest.
Two years later I’ve written a memoir that some don’t think is completely terrible (but some do). I’m finally finishing my Masters but now with an internship in a collegiate athletic department and I’m counting down the days to move back to the South (too many reasons to list but mainly for the southern belles). I’ve been kicking around the idea of advocacy and lobbying and maybe even law school to help other crazies (that’s a joke calm down) out there like me.  I never thought I’d one day want to do something like that maybe it’s just another “Unexpected Boom” in my life. (BTW I didn’t see Dave Chappelle in Yellow Springs dressed like Prince that’s just ridiculous; he was actually dressed like Rick James, Bitch!).                                                                                                                                                                                       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. 4 Issue 23

In honor of the Awkward Family Photos that I absolutely can’t get enough of online I’m going to spend a little bit of time talking about an awkward family moment that I’m sure many of you can relate to. I’m undoubtedly talking about the Birds and the Bees talk that most of you got (if you didn’t and are confused I’m talking about sex). I never had the talk with my mom and I’m pretty sure she was just happy to find a condom in the laundry to solidify the fact my brother wasn’t spreading his teenage seed (that’s just a guess though). I really didn’t get the Birds and the Bees talk from Stubby either; what I did get was a rather graphic and detailed video (I’m not telling how old I was because it would probably piss off Mom). Instead I had this conversation with my G’ma after I had been dating my first girlfriend for awhile in college (I repeat I was in college).
G’ma: “Derek little buddy I wanted to talk to you about something that’s a little uncomfortable to talk about with your grandma.”
Me: “Um, OK.”
G’ma: “Well you and Jill have been dating for a little while now and I know I’ve always said that you need to wait for marriage to have sex. But you two really need to have sex just once before you’re married to make sure neither of you two are gay.”
Me: “Well G’ma I think you’re right. And me and Jill have had sex once but we still aren’t quite sure whether we’re gay or not so we’re going to keep at it until we find out. You have my word on that.”
OK, I really didn’t say that last line but the rest of the story was spot on. I think my only response at the time was:
“Yeah G’ma, times are changing.”
To this day I don’t even know what that really means. The best part of that story is I’m pretty sure my G’ma still thinks I’m gay. Although she did mention to Monkey that if only I could find a girl that would make me happy it would help. Personally I think I need to find the girl that’s OK with my psychotic manic episodes and then I’ll be happy (any takers? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?). It’s pretty obvious she’s just trying to help so I’m alright with it all.
For the first year or so after my BMD diagnosis in 2008 no one particularly tried to help out. In fact really no one tried to help really at all. I guess that’s to be expected when most people who knew about my BMD were scared of it. I’ve looked into the eyes of someone who’s been a lot of things, but nothing compares to the feeling of looking into the eyes of someone who fears you. To see that fear in their eyes from merely talking to you is unlike any feeling I had experienced before.
I mean I wasn’t ever upset about it, I understood it and hell I was even a little scared of myself back then (now I just love myself, haha). I didn’t understand anything that was going on with me and that uncertainty and unfairness of it all can be terrifying at times. But it’s getting better and not only with myself. G’ma still has her home remedies like my gay sex test above (for instance Mt. Dew and Potatoes; that’s a whole other story) but they’re for my BMD now and not my sexuality (I think). For longest the time it was more than difficult for all of us to even grasp the BMD diagnosis and now we’re home remedying it (I like it a lot).
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. 4 Issue 22

“…it was at about this point in Denver that I thought something really wrong was going on. I mean I was running down the road away from my friends because I thought I was a human bomb set to detonate whenever I entered a hospital.”
“Okay Derek I’m going to stop you right there. From what I’ve heard I think you’d be a perfect candidate for my little ‘wonder drug’ Geodon. I’ve had nothing but success with this particular medicine and a lot of my patients have seen a dramatic difference with their bipolar disorder.”
“Well, I’m on lithium now and it really seems to be working pretty well. I don’t think I need another medicine right now, I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Be that as it may but I’ve seen how adding Geodon as a maintenance treatment with lithium can be very beneficial. I can write you a script and get you started right after our session.”
This confidential patient doctor interaction occurred a couple years back and damn it if this lady wasn’t pouring it on pretty thick. Being trained in corporate sales techniques I can spot a bullshitter a mile away but I really wasn’t expecting to run into one at my assessment session with my new doc. I literally had been talking for about five to ten minutes about my BMD history before this woman was already prescribing a new medicine to me. Man this was some bullshit and it only made me feel more trapped by it all.
A few weeks after this hard sell by my doc I was hanging out one late evening enjoying an adult beverage or two with a buddy when he asked me this:
“Are you ever going to be free?”
I didn’t need to even think about it for one second before I responded:
“No.”
At that exact moment and for awhile after it that’s exactly how I felt. I believed I could never be free and that the BMD would hold me captive for as long as I lived. I felt as if I wasn’t in control of my life and the mania played more than a significant role in shaping who I was and what I would eventually become.  I thought I was trapped by not only the stigmas and stereotypes of mental health but also the restrictions it put on my abilities. I felt my freedom was gone.
I don’t think that’s so much of an accurate portrayal of the way I see my life any more though. However before this I used to be scared that I wouldn’t fit in. That people would not necessarily like me and that I’d be somehow left out by not being like everyone else. I was scared of being myself at times because I cared so much about what others thought.
In case you were wondering I never took the Geodon because I didn’t give a rat’s ass what she thought or wanted me to do because I was living with the BMD and she wasn’t. That mentality has even found its way into those other aspects in my life that I used to be so fearful of just being me in. So maybe that’s the reason I don’t feel like I’m trapped anymore by this BMD and actually feel pretty damn free to be myself (and if you don’t like it; I really don’t give a rat’s ass).
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 4 Issue 21

I was able to catch the classic “Major League II” the other day for a few minutes and by some kind of luck it was at this scene:
Rube Baker: Hey. Ya know Ricky, breaking up with a girlfriend can be a very painful thing. But it don't have to keep ya down for long. I mean, let me tell ya something from my own personal experience. I've never had a regular girlfriend like you, but I did get kicked in the balls once by a mule. Now, I thought I would be hurting for the rest of my life. But you know what happened the very next week? 
Rick Vaughn:What? 
Rube Baker: My momma died. Hell, after that, I didn't care no more about my balls hurtin'. You see what I'm gettin' at? 
The subtle genius of Rube is pretty evident and I’ll get to his role in my life but first let’s take a look at my favorite quote from him in that movie:
Rube Baker: They're going to send me back to Omaha and I don't even live there! 
I know this isn’t really that funny to everybody else in the world but it hits close to home for me. For like the first year or so at AT&Tizzle my boss thought I was from Wyoming for some reason. I was always scared they were going to fire me and send me back to Wyoming where I didn’t live (I guess you just had to be there).
Now I’m sure you’re asking yourself what in the hell does Rube’s swollen balls and deceased mother have to do with me? I admit it; it’s a valid question. Well lately in my life I’ve been able to also relate to Rube’s mule issues because they hit close to home (fun farm fact: a mule is part horse and part donkey; don’t quote me on that I’m not a farmer). I’ve discussed how I’ve been cleared to return back to school and to actually attempt to get some resemblance of my healthy life back. It’s a pretty sweet deal considering I haven’t had a healthy life in four years.
I guess what I’m trying to get at here is that now that I’m healthy, reducing my dosage for crazy pills (that are really only salt so stop judging me) and just a few months from my Master’s is that my mind should be content as a camel. But it’s not; now that I’m healthy I no longer spend an inordinate amount of my time worrying about everything from psych wards to depression but am now seeing how much I have to make up in my life.
Now that I’m not purely concentrating on trying to get healthy, find insurance, get a doc I can stand and deal with the rest of the sideshow that accompanies mental health I’m realizing I have a ways to go. I wouldn’t say I’m jealous or envious of the people around me; OK yeah I am. It’s not that I don’t want others to be happy and getting the most out of everything in their lives but I’m not sure why I don’t get a shot at it. It’s been four years of one hell of a journey and I feel at times I have very little to show for it. Four years ago I would have imagined myself in a bungalow on the beach killing it at the tizzle at this point of my life not bitching in the middle of a corn field; but I guess you’ll have that.
I think I just need to get a good kick in the nuts to get my mind off of the aspects in my life that are considerably behind where I’d like them to be. But honestly by just stopping bitching about it and appreciating the fact that I’m finally healthy would more than likely be the best remedy (I’ll probably try that way first).
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. 4 Issue 20

I had my first bad day on Monday for the first time in a pretty long time. In fact I think they last bad day I had was last summer during the preseason of the NFL on the Saturday after the Bengals played the Panthers on Thursday night. How do I remember with such detail, well because of this story of Jamin (sorry man you’re somehow always in the middle of my bullshit), myself and the starting Tight End for the Bengals.
The first time that night a black man yelled my name across the club it was Jamin and he wanted to know if the guy sitting a few seats down was Jermaine Gresham. So I yelled Jermaine’s name and he looked up and I told Jamin: “Yep, that’s Jermaine Gresham” and I went back to talking to a group of black girls leaving Jamin to deal with the now staring at him NFL Tight End (I was a little amazed I was able to do this; talk to black girls that is).
A few minutes later another black man yelled my name across the club but this time it wasn’t Jamin, it was the 6’5” 260lb Bengals first round draft pick out of Oklahoma tight end Jermaine Gresham.  This is when my bad day starts and as I walk over to Jermaine I must have been rattled because supposedly I stepped on his boy’s shoe (impossible but I go along). I apologize to his boy’s shoe and his boy but it wasn’t enough. Jermaine was out to humiliate me (I don’t really blame him). I had to apologize to his boy’s shoes again and then guess who his boy was (I guessed right, it was Bernard Scott). Luckily the NFL player’s only weakness at night, chubby drunk white girls, approached Jermaine and I was free to go.
In hindsight that night really wasn’t all that terrible but it felt bad when I was walking across the club with Jermaine Gresham staring me down. That’s probably a good thing meaning my meds are working and I’m not as unstable as I used to be (I was batshit in The Nasty looking back now) but my doc did say I was going to have bad days no matter what (no cure remember). Monday was a bad day where I couldn’t get past everything I didn’t have. For no reason it seems like I’m overcome with immense guilt and shame of my situation during these bad days.
It’s really crazy now to think about just how difficult Monday was because nothing in my life has really changed in the four days since then. Nothing that I was dwelling over and worrying about on Monday has had any sort of a resolution today yet I’m fine today. In fact I was fine on Tuesday and have been feeling just great the days since Monday. That’s so bizarre that something so influential on my overall health and well-being, something that can bring me to my knees for an entire day is just gone the next day. What in the hell is it?
I don’t know; hell nobody really knows. I just try to learn from those times and be thankful my bad days are a lot fewer and far between than they used to be. I also tried to remind myself of a quote that I read on some random website about life throughout my bad day on Monday that seemed to help: “Over prepare, then just go with the flow.”
Oh just in case you were wondering (I’m sure you weren’t though) just for shits and giggles whenever Jermaine Gresham scores a touchdown now I always text Jamin:
“I stepped on his boy’s shoes!!!”
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