My Bipolar Journal – Episode 61
May 15, 2007
So, I've now begun floating on the surface of a very strange place. It's the place between mania and depression which seem to tie in neatly with mood swings that everyone pictures in their heads when they picture someone with an episode of any sort. I'm nowhere near as depressed as I have been though for the last month and my mania is slightly under control, but somewhere inside there's this war going on where they're battling each other. I don't know why other people can't feel this, but I can actually feel this physically. When people say it's all in your head, it really is. I don't know why other crazy people don't get this. I know people who are just like me or may even have more issues than I (I know it's hard to believe) that try to get by saying, "This is just the way that you are. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you." I don't believe that because I can't remember a moment in my life, even as a child where I didn't feel that something just wasn't right with me. I can feel myself wanting to jump into the battle and forcing myself to the right side of the war, but the other side is so much easier. So, do you do what is easiest and simplify matters or are you your own hero and fight to be on the side of right. I mean really has winning a war for the greater good done us much good. Now, I know there's an argument coming on that one, but really. We go and fight wars and defend things, but I've never seen anyone hate their own country more (and I am generalizing) than Americans. And, let's be honest, those of us who go out and love our country and display their flags proudly and go and fight are generally people who always think their right. Now I don't have a problem with our country, but I'm not so big that I don't think there might be someone doing it better or that there are definitely people doing it worse. Not that I even have any right to talk at all. There are people who are much more equipped to get into a political discussion than I. Quite frankly the subject of politics bores me to tears and if any of you would like to argue a point to me, chances are I'll let you win just to get out of the discussion. If you're someone who is into this subject you're certainly going to not be convinced your anything but right anway.
So, yes. This is how my brain works. I start out discussing my brain and end with politics within one paragraph. You should see all the little alleys I had to detour just to stay there. And writing is where I'm more focused. Go figure that one out.
Back to the subject of the Elevator People, The Twins and People With the Clanky Shoes. I don't understand how it is physically possible for people to be worried about hiring someone with tattoos or piercings when they will hire anyone that has gotten a spiral perm in the last three months and still curls their bangs. I'm not dogging your "hairstyle", however, you look skankier and more trashy than most of the people I know who are covered in tattoos and piercings. I just thought I should give you a heads up. I also think we should go back to uniforms. I know that I hate having to buy a separate set of clothes for a job I hate and don't put much time into if it looks right or not, but why can't I wear the same khaki pants every single day of the week, but you can wear shirts with kittens and Christmas trees. Why do you all need knee surgery? You sit down all day!
Probably from bending over and picking up your kids all day that you won't shut up about in the elevator. Why are you talking? Why are you talking to me? I don't even know your name! I don't want to know your name. I have a hard enough time being there for the people I already give a crap about. Subjects I still don't want to hear about: your husband, the weather, how you have so much cleaning to do when you get home, how your too old to go out anymore, your grandkids, family reunions, vacations, germs or how scary the elevator sounds.. I'm sure the list could go on, but if you don't get the general idea by now, don't ever try to talk to me either. If I want to know, I will ask.
Let's see, what else is there to gripe about today. I'm just kind of in one of those moods where I want to vent.
Oh! I know. My dad said something kind of funny to me Saturday before I left for Cincinnati. I was commenting how music videos where people stare at the camera bother me. Actually, most music videos bother me. He gave the infamous George smirk and said, "It must stink to have to work in the music business and criticize music all the time and never enjoy it." Now, this was merely a video comment, not a music comment first of all, but I quickly told him that I do enjoy it and that being able to recognize when things suck only makes the bands you do enjoy that much better. Not only that I criticize shitty music so people like him can enjoy it. I'm really offering him a service overall. It doesn't really matter. It's common in the George family to find something wrong with someone and then be sarcastically insulting about it. Especially when it comes to me. I know they'd never admit it, even to themselves, but it's very obvious how I'm the biggest disappointment in the family. I feel no need to prove them right or wrong. It's just the way things are. I could turn around and say that I'm disappointed in them for not following their dreams and instead giving into the conditioned life they chose. I know that's why their all bitter and sarcastic now. It sounds stupid I suppose, but sometimes, I'm fairly certain that they're jealous. Maybe they aren't jealous of my financial struggles, but jealous of the fact that I'm going after something that I actually want to do rather than what the world tries to make you think you should do. Maybe I'm wrong though.
My brother, who may actually read this, so sorry, Cory, but seems to be stuck somewhere in the middle. He wants to be himself and go outside the normal world, but he made a comment at lunch that made me think that he's going to be one of those people who complain about how "he can't do those things anymore because he's getting too old" or say things like, "Well, you have to grow up sometime." Now who thought of that phrase anyway? I'm not saying you don't have to grow up sometime, but what does that mean or what do people mean by it? You do have to grow up sometime. You have to learn that it's silly to not be able to restrain yourself from saying things like, "Fuck off whore" or fight back when someone says it to you. You have to start taking care of yourself and doing things like.... mowing the lawn for instance or the dishes or your own laundry, but that's not what people mean when they say it. All they're saying is that someday you have to give into the flow of the Humans and get a degree, get married, make babies and get a quote "real job". Where would you Humans with the "real jobs" go though when your kids want a happy meal if everyone in the world had a "real job". Any service you provide that is rewarded in cash is an actual real job and I promise you that people that work at McDonald's are working much harder than you do in the course of a day. Not only that , they're are doing it for a more noble cause. No, not childhood obesity (although they do that too), but feeding people at an affordable price is much more noble than making sure that everyone around the globe can pay too much money for clothing simply because of the label on it or cover themselves up in sweaty, grimy makeup. My cause is noble sir! I want to make sure that you are only listening to music that will make you cum in your ear pussies! So that at the end of your "hard day at work" only to come home to a life where you can't sit down and relax you will at least have five minutes to sell out and listen to something worthwhile and actually feel enjoyment from that. Or at least to turn up in the car to drown out the sound of your children screaming as you ask yourself how you ended up here in this life.
I was talking yesterday about the concept of people saying they have "enough" money. What is "enough" money. People talk about someday when they have a lot of money, but then they would be satisfied with just "enough". "Enough" wants to be defined as enough to pay your bills, get out of debt and have a little extra spending cash. Well, you would think that there would be a certain amount of money set up for that then. I mean, plenty of people that make $6 an hour have enough to live on. Then you say that not for the lifestyle that you want, so therefore you need more, but that's not the definition of enough. I guess that's the answer then. Minimum wage is what like $5.50 an hour or something like that? So basically if you make $5.50 an hour or (for us math geniuses who need calcluators) $11,440 a year you have "enough" by government standards. Now we could say that everything is now set up to where you have to have two incomes to truly survive (although I believe it a farce), so $11 an hour or $22,880 a year. Therefore I make more than "enough" even by government standards since I make 3 cents an hour over the standards that have been set. Actually, I live in a house with 5 incomes, so I could divide that down to saying that I am basically filthy stinking rich when it comes to standards. Now, do I have money? No. Because I have chosen a lifestyle that far exceeds my financial income. Do I think that would change by making more money? No because I used to make $17.50 an hour (or $36,400 a year) and I still had nothing.
Okay, I went to lunch today and a guy stops and asks me what time it is. I go for my cell phone and before I can do anything he asks for my name. I tell him and he tells me his (no, I didn't pay attention) and then asks me if I have a boyfriend. Is this really a line? I want to meet the father's of these guys who think "Do you have a boyfriend" is a line. It makes me vomit a little. And seriously, who would care? I gave him the same answer I give everyone which is, "No, but I'm taken." That confused him long enough for me to just keep walking. That and the fact that I broke down laughing at him kept him away, at least I hope. As long as he stayed away, who cares?
