My Bipolar Journal - Episode 55

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 55

April 30, 2007

So, to round out my perfect, well.... what's turning into life more than weeks or months....

I'm stuck in Knoxville making people miserable. People that are as happy as I was about a month ago. I knew that hanging out here for one more weekend would be the death of me, but I didn't have a choice. My car is in butt-fucking Chattanooga and I didn't have much else of a choice. Instead I've been rewarded the "fat cunt, if I see you I'll punch your teeth down your throat" award. And why did I win this award? Because I've just been around too much. I didn't do anything. I didn't even want to be here. I want to be on my couch with the person I love sitting and touching and just being in each other's presence, but that's not possible either. I have no goals or anything. Everything I figured out I wanted isn't possible.

To top it all off I can't keep my mouth shut. I want to tell someone all sorts of things, but the more I talk, the more annoying I get. The longer I don't know what's going, the more I talk.

I'm completely out of my comfort zone. I quickly accustomed myself to being happy and satisfied and knowing that I could get things done. I felt that way because of what I had and now what I had is gone. I don't know how to get it back and I pretty much don't even want to. If one more person tells me it will be okay or that things will sort out or that I won't always feel like this I'm going to shoot myself between the eyes. I don't want to have good things if I can't have the only thing I ever needed.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 54

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 54

April 24, 2007

I am marking my profile as content because everyone else is although I'm really not content at all. I'm apparently writing poetry(ish) because everyone else is even though I'm not much of a poet. I'm such a follower.

Beautiful Trap

I gambled and can't decide if I won or lost, but can't change what happened
I looked in your eyes and for one solid moment thought clarity had given way to interrupt
Eyes so confused, eyes so hurt, eyes so happy, but what was it worth
Morals aside, I rushed into the tide and now can't decide what I've done

Your heart, on my sleeve I can wear like a badge of honor
The reason I spoke was for the same reason that I could read those eyes blind
Stories written and read on the raised bumps of my arms
What will happen when they reach my fingertips only to fall and end

Your head in my lap was a beautiful trap to make everything seem so clear
Knowing the truth that hadn't been said and hoping I was wrong again
I'd like to say that I didn't mean to but we all know when that's a lie
Honesty's ruined so much for us both but what could I do but shove it deeper inside

No takebacks, making the decision to make the decision made me wish my heart could stay blind
It's not good to know, but it's not good to hide not when things make you feel so inside
The angel of death is still an angel of truths and leaves nothing for us to disguise

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 53

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 53

April 21, 2007

So, apparently I'm once again prey to the fact that no one seems to be able to tell me what I'm doing wrong again. Which is not fair because I always try to be honest. Apparently, honesty is still not appreciated even now in the 21st century (it is the 21st century still isn't it). Apparently my number one rule of saying everything I mean and exactly what I mean exactly when I want to say it isn't working out so well. I can't be less than me though. What sucks is that instead of people saying exactly what they mean to you, they punish you.... most of the time quite severely, rather than taking the time to explain that something you're doing is hurting them or bothering them.

I've been told I'm quite emo lately. People don't take the time to figure out how other people operate anymore and it's a damned shame. When I'm feeling something, truly and deeply I talk about it to annoy myself out of it. I want people to know that I recognize that I'm a bit out of control and that I'm working on it. Apparently that is somehow uncalled for business. I spend a lot of time taking mental notes of each person in my life I care about so that I know what it takes to keep them happy. The problem is that I'm the only one ever doing it. It's just in my nature though. I really would make a good stalker if I weren't so damned lazy.

I hate it when I'm finally ready to tell someone how I feel about something and then there's this big comparison of how I shouldn't feel so bad because something out there in this world is worse. Of course there is! I'm not retarded! Just because there are starving people in this world or your mom died when you were five or someone is being raped, killed or murdered means I can't be sad about anything somehow. I'm glad that some people are so sensitive to those subjects. I can be as well, but if that's all I had time to think of I'd be a fuckload more emo than I am right now. I hate it when people try to prove how much worse their life is than mine. Let me tell you right now. If you think it is, then it is. You win. I'm STILL angry, depressed and slightly bitter. Why am I not allowed to feel that when I let you all feel it so loudly. Why can't I be weak every once in a while? Why can't I cry? You know why? Because all you crazy bitches cry about everything. "My boyfriend kissed another boy, my shoe lace is untied, I think he's cheating on me so I'm going to make up some big story just to be upset with him, my vagina is sore, I think I'm pregnant, no I mean I just miscarried because I was never pregnant in the first place...." the list goes on. Why don't you ALL just run out of the club crying and NEVER... COME... BACK!!!!!!!

I'm supposed to be the depressed one right now and more and more I'm beginning to realize that only one person gets that and it's not the person I thought it was. Why is it that the people who should understand the crazies the most are the last to understand me? For twice in my life I found two people who I thought could handle it because they have to handle it every day. One was a best friend and the other, well, was more than a best friend. It's odd though because at the first sign that something is wrong with me they run away and hurt me.... only... just for the record boys.... making me more crazy. Guys say they don't want a girly girl, but the second they find out what not being a girly girl means (for an example click here) they run straight to a girly girl and fuck her instead and suddenly fucking gets this label of "meaning something" because they feel as though they've been railroaded by someone they thought was what they wanted.

Let me help you all out in advance. I am not what you want. You want blonde girls who cry and run out of bars and fake pregnancies and get mad at you for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I'm sorry I can't be like that, but I find it insulting to the Humans that those types of girls even exist and the fact that you date outside your species is just fucking annoying. When you date and fuck outside your species you make a half Humans which leads to more insanity and more girls that will grow up to learn to cry and run out of bars and fake pregnancies and get mad at you for absolutely no reason whatever. It pisses me off even though it's not my problem. Actually, it is sort of my problem because then when something actually goes wrong it's suddenly obnoxious to everyone else because for some reason I've never been allowed to have real problems. My youth minister once said to one of my friends when I was younger that I wasn't crying because my grandpa died, I was crying for attention and because I was crazy. Craig, shit. Craig something. Craig you were such a piece of shit I'd love to post your name here, but you're not important enough for me to remember anyway. Thanks for making so many of our lives miserable. At least you kept one little miniature Craig to go on and carry the name of people who are bullshit.

So today I'm supposed to be having this big party and I've had a really really really bad week. The worst I've ever had. I don't feel like partying. I don't feel like doing most of the things I normally crave, so I thought having friends here would help get me ready. That I would be helped because that's what friends are supposed to do. Instead everyone gets all upset and I spend my hell trying to cheer everyone else up because.... why are they upset? Because I'm upset! Fuck this noise.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 52

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 52

April 19, 2007

Someday, many years from now, someone may read my list of love. I merely sit here feeling the generalized rock coming from the people that I am the most proud of right now in my life. Despite my extremely overwhelming-really bad-more than most people should have to deal with in a lifetime-six hours of life in Chattanooga (by the way, FUCK CHATTANOOGA!), I can't help listening to the rock that I am fortunate to be a part of and just feeling complete joy and glee.

I'm so proud of you all and one by one I say it here because I care enough to type your names at 80 wpm: Johnny, Caleb, Lee, Matt (Mutt), Steve, Steve-O, Emory, Shaun, Jared, Kelly, Kelley, Holly, Wade, Felixx, Jodi, Matt, Byron (doesn't even matter that we haven't truly met), Kenny, Luke, Ian, Ben, Evan, Eliott, Bebhin, Matt, Tom, Brian, Matt (Vodka), Nate, Joe, Huberty, Wendy, Ben, Ray, Andy - you all rock my socks clean off. Maybe one day one of you will read this and it might matter. Maybe one day, one of you will read this and take your place in the list too seriously or not seriously enough, but I promise you that as of this moment in my life, you all make me happy to do what I am trying to so hard to hold on to. Those of you who know how much shit I've had to put up with in the last few days know that it matters not where you are on the list or why you're on it or why you're not, but all I know is that just listening to a few tracks of what you've created or remembering how much you're dedication is to making that piece of rock matter is what is keeping me going right now. I believe that was a run on sentence. You'll get that will bipolar bitches from time to time. I'm almost to the point that I want it to matter again. Maybe this pretending everything is okay has some merit to it. Maybe it's just a phase I'm going through. I'm sure I'm on some sort of exaggerated twelve step program and just going crazy rather than actually coping, but as of this moment it matters not.

I keep contemplating why I type this here at all. Sometimes, I read about your lives and I wonder why you think that I think it should matter (although usually it does), but then I remember that I'm typing the same sort of thing. I reconsider and realize that it's all important. If you think it's important to write, then it is and just because of that.

I'm so sad and so mortifyingly depressed, but this glimmer of hope that comes out through the music that you create and/or your dedication to making it work is that thing that matters right now to me.

I'm so excited for this weekend and being with my friends and bouncing up and down and banging my head and maybe even crying a lot that I can barely stand it. It's like feeling as though there are only two more days until I get out of prison. I want to make it three feet off the floor during Summer Day. I want tears to roll down my face at the gift that Jared will be giving me selflessly from his box (haha!). I want to be number 110 or 111 or wherever you are on your list (and you know who I'm talking to if you would EVER... READ... A... FUCKING... BLOG! But why would you? In the end, who am I really typing to? Most likely myself, but as long as it makes me happy in the end, what does it matter? I want to curl up in a little ball and cry like a baby for whatever reason it does not matter. I'm okay with that. I want you. I want what you think I didn't want. I wanted to tell you before it were too late and wouldn't sound as pathetic as it would sound now. I want it. I want it all. Call me selfish, but I want it all not just for you but because of you. Whether it ever matters again or not is irrelevant. It's just important.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 51

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 51

April 17, 2007

I'm 30 today. Funny that.

So, I'm very disappointed in myself lately. I've forgotten one of the rules of dating a musician. What is this rule you ask? Let me explain some things first. I only date musicians because they're the only ones who are generally open to an open relationship and are the only ones who can understand me being on the road all the time (or my lack of now that my beautiful Sportage has been totaled and left in the state of Tennessee). I'm not bitching either. I'm merely stating a fact. I'm glad that things have turned out good for everyone else. I really am. My roommate asked yesterday asked why I always put myself last on the totem pole and always think of everyone else first as if I shouldn't be glad that people chose to be honest with me rather than going on and on making me believe something that is simply not true. Not that I'm any less disappointed, not that I'm any less depressed and not that I don't feel like my insides are dying, but none of that truly matters if everyone else is happy. Asking me why I put everyone else before myself is actually a compliment. It may not be the way everyone chooses to do things in their life, but it's my way.

I simply thought, there are a lot of chicks on here who simply don't understand the things you need to know when you take up with a musician. Actually on my way down to Chattanooga I was already coming up with the cardinal rules in my own head (prior to car demolition). Obviously, even I forget them at times. That's okay. Sometimes I'm a dumbass. Sometimes we're all dumbasses.

Agree or disagree these are the rules:

Rule #1: Realize that your perspective other will be gone a lot. This is what makes them happy. This is why they chose to be musicians. If they are true musicians and not musician wanna-be's then they are only truly happy doing what they love. You should be supportive of that or it will harbor much anxiety on both parts. It's really better if you have a job where you can be on the road a lot as well, then it's not as hard to be apart or so hard for you to understand when they are gone.

Rule #2: Always, always, always remember that your perspective other is single when you are at a show with them. It is part of how they maintain their elusive ambiance and help make money so they can buy you things or help support you. If you have an honest relationship then you'll know where you stand regardless of who he's putting his arm around at a show.

Rule #3: Musicians are dramatic and in need of affection as a general rule. They are not ones to be kept to one person physically. It's just the way it goes. Most completely separate the physical act from the relationship, so sometimes, they might get some on the road. It doesn't necessarily mean anything as long as they can be honest with you about it. If they're big fucking liars or feel like they have to be then you have a shitty relationship.

Rule #4: Of course, they have beautiful things to say to you. They're musicians. They write beautiful things to say all the time. Sometimes they're just looking to get laid. Decide if you can live with that and then fuck or suck.

Rule #5: Always, always, always remember that sometimes you're just Cincinnati (or perspective hometown) Pussy or Dick. No matter how special they make you feel (see Rule 4) they're probably not that into you as a Human. It doesn't mean you're a bad lay or a bad person. It's just the way things go. However they will say or do anything most times to make sure that you think your special to ensure that next time they are in town they can bag you. Just let them know up front that your ok with the fucking or sucking. Getting your emotions involved is very, very, very bad.

I was going to post this prior to this weekend, so no one take anything I say to personally. I know where I stand in the scheme of things because I'm an honest person and only deal with honest people. If I thought you were some sort of slut or bastard, you would know it by now.

More irony? You want more? My ex told me yesterday that "We were done!". I left him a year ago in October. Um, yeah, "Get the net! We broke up!". It's lead to a series of hillareous text messages and phone calls that I can't believe aren't funny to him as well, but at least I will finally be getting this divorce done on paper. No, I don't believe in divorce, but sometimes shit happens.

One thing that has me upset right now is that I'm afraid for those that I love that are going through the fairy tale, conditioned image that they should get married and make babies. It hurts my heart because there's no way to explain or get through someone's head that they don't want this. They just have to go through the same horrifying bullshit I'm going through before they will learn their lesson. I too was once the girl who said, "Well, if I get married I'm staying married. I don't even believe in divorce." I still don't. Explain that one. I guess I shouldn't have believed in marriage. I believe in it now, but only if the relationship is completely alien and unexplainable. I believe because someone taught me that, but there's only one person who can teach you that is the sad part. I don't want it, but it's like I have to have it. Only with one though. It wasn't the one I picked. It was the one I couldn't not pick (yes, it's a double negative, quit hyper-ventilating) even when I tried not to pick him.

Regardless, the rules were forgotten, things happened that were uncontrollable and it's ok. At least I know that it's real now. Besides the dating musicians rules I forgot the one cardinal rule of all times. The rule that defines me as a non-Human Being:

ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS say exactly what you mean the moment you want to say it exactly the way you want to say it as soon as you mean it.

You lose too much when you don't.

No ill will to any of you, loves. Just me and my big mouth and a need to exert my faux wisdom on the masses. Maybe all this writing is just to get things out of my system.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 50

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 50

April 2, 2007

So, I suppose it's opening day here in the great city of Cincinnati and I suppose that brings out the worst in everyone. I've watched several interesting things happen just while walking into work. First of all, the parking garage I park in always leaves these threatening little notes in the elevators (as if the Elevator People and People in Clanky Shoes weren't enough). Today's was, "There's a game today. Make sure you park correctly or you may not park here again!" Then there was the incessant sound of a VW's car horn as they were frustrated with the car in front of them in the left hand lane with their hazards on. It went on for five minutes rather than them trying to go around. Then a man (a Suit mind you) walked up to another truck with it's hazards on and looked at them and said, "Can't you read the sign? Move it along." I would have loved it if he got his ass beat.

I was embarrassed to be a citizen of this fair town today thanks to all you moron Clanky-Shoed, Weather-Talking, Kid-Toting, Suit-Wearing assholes!..... and now look I've become one of you by letting it get to me.

On the brighter side, I turn 30 this month, this weekend is Chicks Rockfest and the After Elvis boys will be in town. I get to pick up a girl named Kat from the airport today who is flying in from England just to play my piddly old festival and she seems cool. Wow! A cool girl. Who'd have thunk it? So, see, not everything is bad.

Things are only getting better with the love of my life and I'm looking forward to them never ever normalizing. Now if I could just stop freaking out.