My Bipolar Journal - Episode 92

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 92

August 9, 2007

First of all, I hate people that say things are too much information. Nothing is too much information if you want to share it. It's all about the comfortability you have with yourself and the comfortability other people have with themselves. Fuck this "TMI" bullshit. Fuck it when people look at you strangely when you say something a bit out of the ordinary. If nothing else, it returns people to life and the fact with it being real, no matter how uncomfortable one of the two of you may be with the conversation at hand.

Second of all, I'm sitting here feeling all weepy and crying and bullshit and I can't even decide if I'm happy or sad or excited or need someone or something to happen. Something sort of wonderful happened to me yesterday in a way that even the person who helped me experience could not possibly know how amazing it was. I think having so little happen today is just kind of a let down. So, I've decided that it's probably that I'm starting my period tomorrow and that I should just feel whatever it is. I'll cry and not care if it's a happy or sad cry. I'm just going to accept it. In the end it's all part of being somewhat Human, or at least stuck in this Human mindframe sometimes.

Third of all, everyone needs to read this listening to my friend Rebekka of Eva Adalia. Whether she ever reads this or not I have to say that she has single-handedly wrote some of the most amazing music I have ever truly just felt. I absolutely command that if you are ballzy enough to read the innermost thoughts of any one person as you have so chosen to do by reading these blogs that you certainly have enough balls to open up this page and feel everything this girl has wrote. If you need more, check out her previous project Evelyn Red. If I could seriously just fuck some music, this is the music I would fuck. Not fuck to (although I'm not beyond such things), but just plain old fuck. In fact, I command anyone ballsy enough to read these blogs that you always open up an Eva Adalia or Evelyn Red song and mind fuck the hell out of it. I am mortifyingly ashamed that I have not introduced more people to this music and plan to correct such matter. Fear not Rebekka my dear. People shall know of this music and make it their own.

In the meantime, if you have not already pressed play, do it.... do it now.

The other day we said goodbye to our fellow music lover and whipping machine, Liz Vesper. It's not forever, in fact, in the scheme of the extent of most of my friendships, it's barely a minute. However, before the show, with just a few of us hanging out, she said something that has had me thinking for three days now. She said, "I've been really sad and depressed the past few days, so I've just been going through your bipolar journals and reading them." I said it then and I'll say it now, I'm not sure how to take that. I'm sure I'm thinking too much on it. I know what I'd like it to mean, but that's not necessarily how she meant it. I'm not sure how she meant it and since I know she reads this.... I don't think I want to. Part of me wants this to be a place where people can go and read the things they don't want to say. Part of me wants to be a bipolar attention freak. Part of me wants to hope that it doesn't depress people more, and more of me wants people to find a place where they can find things they can relate to, no holds barred. I'm not a too much information girl. I never will be. I can't be and not be exactly who I am all the time and that's the number one rule in my life as any of you who have taken the time to read this know completely and wholly. I like to think that other people will be able to walk up to me and feel more of a level of comfort because if I can say anything, maybe they'll feel like they can too. This world is so handcuffed and chained to the fact that we can't truly be who we are all the time and it's actually heart-breaking to me. Maybe that's why I cry. Maybe it's my period, but at least I'm crying and feeling something and it makes me evaluate who I am and why am the way that I am because although I'm not disappointed with who I am, I think we should always be questioning who we are and keeping ourselves in check.

Do I think I'm some kind of hero? Hell no. Do I want to be? Fuck it! Hell yes I do! I want to be a mother-fucking hero! I want to save people from themselves. I want them to maybe see that you can be honest and still survive. I want the skeptics to sit back and at least think about the lives they've picked for themselves and make sure that it is absolutely the life they want to live. Even if you believe that there is more than one life, just consider that this might be it. Someday you're not even going to be thinking about August 9 and how it was 60% humid and 94 degrees outside. You're going to be thinking about the decisions you made and asking yourself if they were the right ones, so why not think on it now and make sure you're making the right ones. And while I'm putting in the request for super powers I would also like to be able to fly and shoot missles out my boobs and bullets out my ass!

The Cycle
Evelyn Red

Set me on fire by the sun
Cause I'm halfway to the
Home of what's become
Better off
But I'm a world away from a final severance

Take the deal that has come
Cause it's the last destructive sense that keeps me strong
Holding on

For this half lived system of
Conscious lateral thinking
That decides for my self
It annuls my struggle for attempting
To find a new beginning

Plan my time for assault,
Every second rushing by that leaves me cold
As I resolve
To this half lived system of

Conscious lateral thinking
That decides for myself
It annuls my struggle for attempting
To find a new beginning

Say ive been wrong
For the cycle spins and
The dead begin to surface again
Say ive been wrong
I wrote the riddles,
Inside they'll find my last defense
Break the system that keeps me thinking that ive lost control again

They held my sentencing to decide one time
To prove the worst of me
Is it right
To accept defeat?
Though ive tried still it hurts to breathe
Does it render me unworthy to be free?

For Every minute it tells me that it was not enough
For every second I promised that I would hold my tongue
I disrupted the only thing that was good enough
This lateral thinking couldn't begin to hold me up

(The cycle spins and the
Dead begin to
Surface again its
The point where I cant go back)