My Bipolar Journal – Episode 193

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 193

March 27, 2008

Is it weird to not really know someone too well, but feel like you’ve known them a long time? Maybe it’s just that we all want to connect with certain people. I find myself worrying about someone a great deal that I really have no business worrying about. There’s an attraction and there are complications, all things I find appealing and want to find out more about. Things that maybe feel more attached to this person than maybe I should. I find that I have to catch myself from saying things to this person that normally I would be saying to a good friend. Phrases like “hang in there” or “I’m here if you need to talk” or “don’t give up” catch on my tongue. Long-winded messages that show I care get discarded by me long before this person would ever see them. I’ve done this with a few people, but none that I’ve really thought about or investigated myself for. I always want to say exactly what I want to say, exactly how I want to say it. It’s my rule. It’s how I live. I know though that with some people you have to be careful. My comfort level is always where theirs is and if I move too quickly sometimes, say too much, react too suddenly. I can’t help feeling I’m right though and that when I read this person’s words, speak to them or even observe them from a distance that they feel trapped, like they’re suffocating and need just one person to say the things that I quickly stop my lips from speaking or my fingers from typing. I also feel like they’re easily scared, that even the moments that they would be grateful for whatever I would say or do would also make them run the other way. It’s like trying to rescue a rabbit from a trap. If they aren’t as injured as you thought, they don’t stick around to say thank you, they run off to find their own kind and do all the things you did before making you feel like the rescue, while it may have been appreciated and shouldn’t have been done for a thank you… you still want one. You still want them to treat you in some sort of hero fashion deep down inside. Most of the time I dive in head first and say, “Well, if they don’t appreciate what I have to say or what I feel like I could do, then that’s ok. Move on.” I find myself afraid to lose this one though and I have absolutely no reason to whatsoever. I don’t even know them, not the way that friends really know each other. Sometimes, even after a few sentences with this person though, I feel closer than I have with some people after knowing them for years. When I go to say the things I would normally say though I hesitate. I never hesitate. Why am I doing it this time? What makes me so careful this time? I know the easy answer that I’m afraid to lose it, but there’s no solution to why. I need to come up with a plan and stick to it because I’m just not being myself this way. I wish I had more opportunities to just take the time to really talk and really say things. Everything is so circumstantial.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 192

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 192

March 25, 2008

OK, so there’s this male enhancement video about enlarging your penis. However you’ll not that not even the doctor can say the word penis. Now first of all I want nothing prescribed by a doctor that cannot even say the word of the part of the body that it will affect. I think my favorite part though is when they’re interviewing the dude at the end and ask him, “So, what results have you noticed.” He looks at the girl like she’s crazy and says, “Uh, I’m bigger.” She says, “And you’re not embarrassed to say this?” and he kind of laughs at her and says no. Yet still, none of them can say penis. Penis isn’t even a cuss word. It’s a part of the male anatomy. I don’t think saying penis is restricted by whomever restricts those things.

However, I’m quite happy though about Geico’s decision to use Mrs. Butterworth as a spokesperson. Now that my friends, is pure genius.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 191

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 191

March 23, 2008

I’m exhausted. I’m on a roller coaster. One minute everything is grand and the next I’m waking up with dry eyes from crying myself to sleep. Do I want to talk about it? Not really. I mean, for one thing, I couldn’t possibly tell you why and two, you’re not my savior. Only one Human could save me and things have been put massively on hold from that angle. For another, I couldn’t really tell you or anyone else why things are like this right now. I can’t tell you if they’ll pass or if I’ll just have to learn to live with this. Nothing’s predictable. Even the fact that I’m acknowledging it is because it’s just exhausting.

I have this cyst or something underneath my eye. It freaks me out for a while, but now it’s slowly disappearing and I’m thinking that maybe it’s an alien seeping into my brain and making me crazier than usual.

I guess I feel all left out a lot right now too. I didn’t even know it was Easter. I mean, it’s not like I might have been able to do something with my family, but at least they usually call and tell me we’re not doing anything for [insert holiday name here]. I miss last year when I made the world’s best Easter baskets for my friends. They really were the best. I miss those times, even though at the time it was extremely frustrating. It’s true. No matter what, you usually remember the good times you had with your friends.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 190

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 190

March 19, 2008

OK, so seriously. I’m getting so damned sick and tired of everyone abbreviating EVERTHING!!!!! I mean come on. If you don’t like spelling out your fucking band name, then maybe you should have picked a shorter fucking band name. First of all, I have no fucking idea what you’re even talking about in your bulletins with your fucking QCH, BAK, DIK, and IRGGHIL’s. It’s not a good promotion strategy. You are all fucking lame. From now on I want everyone to call me JLG. Not “Jay” “Ell” “Gee”, but “Julg”. Because really the only way to be any fucking lazier is to stop even spelling your initials. So, just call me Julg. Of course, spell it JLG because I wouldn’t want you getting carpal tunnel syndrome over that one extra letter.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 189

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 189

March 18, 2008

Ok, so some of you will take this personally. And I’m sorry, but you damned well should.

I have been busting my ass for nearly a decade now, not quite, but nearly to try to get your music heard. Well, those of you that don’t suck balls. And honestly, if you did, you probably wouldn’t be my My Space friend on this page.

I try very hard to not be that person that makes you feel like you wasted your time at a show when sometimes we all know that you did. There are also nights where you feel like you didn’t waste your time, but it leaves you aching and wondering why it wasn’t better. You know what? That’s the mother fucking lifestyle you’ve chosen. Not every night is great and if you play every single night within a fifteen mile radius of your last show over the last two or three nights, well, it’s most likely that they never will be.

What gives you motivation to play my club? I don’t fucking know! What gives me motivation to book your band? Actually saying, “Well, no one shows up to see the sound guy?” Fuck you? Next time, you can totally play at a show at my club. I will have no sound guy, no door guy, hell; I won’t even bartend you show. I hope it goes really fucking well for you. Do your 12 people keep my bar open? Fuck no. Do I want your 12 people? Hell yes! And then I want to give you advice and all you can say is give me my ten bucks, cause I’m tired. Apparently, you know everything that ever needs to be known. That’s why you made 10 bucks. Because you’re that fucking awesome.

You know what’s even more upsetting? The fact that I liked your band. Playing shows every single day doesn’t make you the most popular band in the 30 mile radius you live it. In fact, you’re only hurting yourself. You know what’s even crazier than that? The fact that you won’t listen to anyone. You’re too busy trying to collect your gorgeous Alexander Hamilton that you don’t even listen to people that give a shit about how to try improve your fan base.

It’s pathetic. It’s lame. It’s ridiculous.

I’m happy to help most days, but days like this are exhausting and I’m already fucking exhausted. It makes me hate that I think that you can write a fucking song to save your life. In fact, if you couldn’t, life would be much easier.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 188

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 188

March 17, 2008

Apparently my iPod is as in love with My Hidden Track as I am. It couldn’t seem to stop playing their rock music tonight. Although I had nothing to do with it, and it’s not that I wouldn’t, it seemed to know that sometimes everyone needs some My Hidden Track in their lives. There are so many things running through my head and every thought seems to get stopped clean. Dead in the middle.

He’s finally back in my life… one way or the other. I hope someday that if I had to I would keep to my promise to turn him away and I hope to God and any other power someone might find equal or greater that I never have to. Titles and what would seem to most as obligations make no difference. I need Him and whether He would ever like to admit it or not, needs me. I don’t need the exclusivity of it all. I don’t need a title or a name or something that anyone would ever call significant. I just need Him. I need to take care of Him.

Something this has all made me think a lot about is the entire though process of need and a supposed “equal” partnership. People’s ideas of equal have gotten entirely off base and equality isn’t what anyone should be looking for. I listened to how hard He tried to switch from personal pronouns to plural pronouns. “I”’s quickly became “Us”’s. “Mine”’s quickly became “Our”’s. Sometimes we all need things to be “I”’s and “Mine”’s though and we shouldn’t feel so lame about that all the time.

The thing is that these definitions we’ve all grown so accustomed to aren’t always about equality. In fact, it should be exactly the opposite. We should want to be with people because, well, there is no other way to be. There’s nothing else we could imagine that taking care of that person whether they ever take care of us the same way or not. As long as they take care of us the way we need to be taken care of. For me, that’s someone allowing me to take care of them the way I want to. I don’t need to be an “Us” or a “We” or an “Our” to complete myself. I only need Him. End of story. End of day. Equality is a lame way to describe any relationship. Give and take is a sorry story put on air by Dr. Phil, not even a real doctor, nor would it matter to give us the illusion that equality is happiness. Some people are just happy taking care of the person we love, no matter how it turns out at the end of the day. Doctors, TV or now have all worked out this plan to teach us we are not enough without someone else or that we’re not enough if we don’t want someone else to take care of us. Some people are built to need to be taken care of and others of us are built to have no other need in life but to take care of them.

Needing a Valentine for Valentine’s Day or an anniversary or only one cock or pussy for the rest of our lives can be a disservice. It can make people who don’t need that feel inadequate and the only thing that will ever make us feel inadequate is other people. I love being me until I realize no one else seems to think that their OK just being themselves. Somehow that always turns against me and my decision to be happy.

I can’t imagine a world where I would give two shits about what anyone thought about that, but I can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t give two shits about making sure you’re OK with yourself or the life anyone else chooses.

I don’t care about my friend’s problems. I care about my friends. If their problems are overwhelming or they need to tell me about how they are upset or ask advice, I will always be there. It doesn’t make me involved or a part of the problem. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t stop whatever bullet might stop them in their tracks, real or otherwise.

It certainly doesn’t mean that Kevin Costner is a remotely decent actor or that Sandra Bullock can’t play one single part where she doesn’t fall down.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 187

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 187

March 16, 2008

Let’s talk about shit that really crazy. For instance the difference between independent bookstores and independent music stores. I never went to Joseph-Beth Booksellers, but always heard that it’s this fabulous independent book store. Well, in the past few months I’ve been into this craphole about 3 or 4 times. I don’t know what people are thinking. There are no books there I even want. Today was the first day I was even able to find the books I went to look for and I could only find about half of them. There are no books on sale whatsoever and I am so very sorry, but you would think that people who work in a bookstore could be introduced to a little thing I like to call… the American Alphabet. There is not a single CD anywhere in the store under $18. No one has paid for a normal CD in 15 years that is $18. I mean, unless it comes with candy or a coloring book, I really don’t see the point in inflating a product that is losing value on a daily basis. They like to embellish their store with handbags, mugs, coffee, a bunch of little tiny things that are appealing to 10 year old girls and nonsense to make up for the fact that they really don’t have any books at a bookstore. It looks like a shopping mall, it’s in a really annoying shopping mall with a bunch of fucking kids and moms that think that if you don’t have kids and aren’t a mom that they have no need to get out of your way. The “booksellers” and “music sellers” are about as useful as my cat litter box.

Now, I also frequent Everybody’s Records. I also started doing this mostly in the last year. Most of these have to do with where I’ve moved to and the convenience. I can almost always find what I want and even a few things I’ve searched high and low for. You walk in and it’s kind of one of these messy stores that you have no doubt from the moment that you step through the doors what product it is that their selling. You start to think, well, with this many CD’s and records, I might have to hunt and peck through the “B’s” just to find whatever CD I’m looking for, but rarely have I found a CD out of alphabetical order. CD’s are priced at a normal price of anywhere between $8 and $15 for a normal disk and they even have a nice used section in case you might be able to find something even cheaper. You cramp through the aisles with polite adults that sometimes realize that you’re looking for a CD in the same area they are and they say “excuse me” and, God help me if they had any kids they used their sense of common decency to leave them locked in their playpens or whatever it is you do with kids when you shouldn’t have them out in public and in my way. The “music sellers” there almost always know what I’m buying and have a comment whether riveting or not about what it is I’m buying. They remember me when I come in and know what I like and even have the remarkable ability to suggest things.

I’ve found that going to a Barnes & Noble or Border’s is much more comforting than going to some lame-o independent bookseller that doesn’t even know the alphabet. Rarely do they not have the books I’m looking for, new books are sometimes 30% off and when they’re not, it’s ok because at least they fucking have it. It’s organized and even though they have a bunch of that tiny useless stuff it’s not used to overwhelm people with a sense of “oo’s” and “ah’s” with trinkets to distract you from the fact that they’re not even really a bookstore. Might I add that their game section is bigger than their fiction section.

Someone at Border’s hear my plea. Buy Joseph-Beth Bookseller’s and put them out of their ever-fucking misery.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 186

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 186

I just don’t know.

Everything that is truly awesome is all the shit that truly sucks.

I want to be this friend that mean something to the people that mean something to me, but all the things that I try to make up for, the things my friends didn’t do for me at some points, get all confusing and mangled and, well, whatever a word is for things that people see when their mangled and confusing and tangled…. Yeah, tangled.

I want people to make their own mistakes just like I did. I want people to see the things that I’ve learned before it’s too late even though I know that no one will see anything until it’s the right time for them. I know that we are the last ones to ever know who we are. Our friends see it and their so quiet. I’m so mad at so many people for that. Even if I hadn’t believed you, I would have respected you for having the balls to call me out once I realized it for myself. Yeah, I get that sometimes it draws you further away at points, but who are we to call anyone wrong.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 185

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 185
March 14, 2008
So many things. All the time. So many things.
I’m so scared.
I’ve never told someone I wouldn’t forgive them. Not someone I don’t care for and certainly not the one person who convinced me to care about them more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I am SO terrified that I’m heading right towards that. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to follow through even when I know there is no other choice.
I’m still hurt even though things should be better. I don’t know how to not be hurt, well, not by this one particular situation. I’m mad at myself because I don’t know how to let go of family. I don’t know how to tell someone who is a part of me to fuck off.
I am inside out. I am not myself. You make me not myself. I used to be so happy about that. Now I’m terrified. I’m so sorry that I’ll never know a place that I’m not. I’m so happy that I’ll never know a place that I’m not.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 184

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 184

March 10, 2008

I’m doing everything wrong. How can I physically do more than say I would do anything, be anything for anyone when they won’t believe me? I give up more and more and more and still I end up in this same place. Upset because the only reason I stay here most days is for people who don’t realize they’re the reason. How unfair is it to be told that I don’t love someone because I don’t hold them higher than other people that I love?

You know, I just… I just want understanding. I want to be able to cry and have it be just because I’m crazy and not for a real reason and for that to be ok with everyone. I don’t even require the amount of love that I feel for you most days. I just want people to accept it at the very least.

Telling me that I don’t love you as much because I’m not this significant “other” is just one of the reasons that I wonder why I stay. I wonder why I go. I wonder if it ever means anything to anyone or if I’m merely an empty oyster. The one that will always get overlooked because I don’t fit the standards of society and produce a pearl.

Knowing that every moment of my life is spent trying to make any of you get this and that it will simply be overlooked is the most painful thing I can go through, yet it’s so insignificant. Love isn’t enough if you don’t fit into this perfect box with this perfect ribbon of substandard living. It’s not enough if you think settling for anything is some sort of normal way of life or that having “problems” is a normal row to haul in any relationship. I’m ok with problems, but not because I accept them.

I’m exhausted.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 183

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 183

March 7, 2008

I hate, hate, hate being stuck. It’s not even so much that I would go somewhere if I wasn’t, I just hate that I’ve lost the ability. Not only that, the past three “sure things” I’ve had have not panned out for me. It’s not been anyone’s fault, so I’ve taken to blaming God or other such invisible entities. It seems easier to blame something I can’t see and that is out of my control. AND to torture me even further, I now have several new sure things that I can’t do anything about due to distance and timing. I’m becoming extra frustrated.

My appetite isn’t gone, but my taste for food is. Nothing sounds good pretty much ever and when I do eat stuff it all makes me sick.

I’m trying to get sick again apparently. I was finally out of the clear and stupid shit keeps sneaking up on me a little bit at a time.

PROBABLY BECAUSE OF THIS FUCKING SNOW THAT IS SUPPOSED TO NOT BE HERE ANYMORE! For once in my life I decided to take the plunge and decide that the snow was gone, but no, that was ruined too. My mood swings are so reactive to weather anymore that I’m thinking a move is eminent. I don’t even know that Nashville would be far enough to get out of this fucking funk. I get so fucking happy too when I can open up my window and turn off the heat and then it’s a fucking blizzard. Fuck it all.

I need too much attention right now. I know I like attention, but it’s like a fucking drug right now. PAY ATTENTION TO ME! NO ONE’S PAYING ATTENTION TO ME! COME ON! PAY ATTENTION TO ME! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! AREN’T A BIG BALL OF JOY THAT YOU CAN BARELY STAND TO AVOID?

Oh, screw it. One more flake of snow and I’m stabbing myself.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 182

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 182

March 3, 2008

So, I am just hoping upon hope that this is the end of winter. This weather makes me so much happier. I know it’s not completely miraculous outside still, but I’ve turned off my heat, opened up a window and praise the Lord, I’m sleeveless. It’s starting to get a bit chilly out now and the window will have to be closed at some point, but I love the sounds outside when the window is open and even though the breeze is almost too cold to handle, I can’t bring myself to close it.

I finally bought the little $5 cord that goes from my iPod to my stereo and I’m currently listening to The Dreaming, whom I recently found out after discovering them that their singer is one Mr. Christopher Hall of Stabbing Westward. Sometimes I feel like the only active Stabbing Westward fan left. A lot of people are fans, but not too many own anything besides Wither, Blister, Burn and Peel (if they haven’t sold it to a used CD store) or still rock out to it in their car on a regular basis. I love it when I find things out backwards. I’m glad I liked the band and then found out he was the singer. I’m also happy that they’ll be playing at The Mad Frog on Sunday. I will be happy and bouncy and taking pictures of one of my heroes. I’m also happy to announce that The Dreaming still has many Stabbing Westward qualities, yet rock out a bit more in a straight forward manner. I couldn’t be happier.

I spent a lot of time at Target today, which is a bit odd for me. I bought a CD holder, which I’m sad to find out doesn’t hold completely all of my CD’s still, however, I don’t have a mass pile on top of partially organized CD’s any longer and that’s a very, very good thing. Everything is back in its alphabetical order and makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. I still can’t find a spindle of CD’s that I know is close by somewhere, but I’ve gotten a bit closer to the cause. My anal retentiveness shall once again be validated.

I also purchased the TV series “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”. My darling best friend turned me on to this show and it’s quite lovely. If you ever want to see me encompassed into a short, fat, male character, check out Danny DeVito’s character in this show. He’s brilliant and says everything I would say if my life were this show. Sometimes, my life is this show.

The new Kim Harrison book is out and the new Vikki Petterson book has a release date.

I’ve told You off and feel like I’ve done so in a quite successful manner. It’s ok. I know I’ll still be able to fuck You when you come back and maybe I’ll do so just to try to prove to You who You really are, although You still won’t believe me. It’s ok though because now everyone knows how limited You are to truthfulness and being a genuine person. It’s always weird that we’re the last people to figure out who we really are.

I’m getting laid Friday. That will be quite lovely.

I’m getting my tires rotated and aligned tomorrow. That will make my car much more enjoyable and less nerve-racking on my impending trip to Nashville/Clarksville that I currently have planned for two weekends from now.

My rent is paid; I have a little cash again, although I still have a lot to pay for.

The heat is off and my window is open.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 181

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 181

March 3, 2008

I am nearly ashamed that some of you are my friends, definitely ashamed that most of you are my friends and more than happy that about 20 of you are my friends. In a world of 500+ imaginary My Space friends, we should all be ashamed. If I had the time, I would create even another My Space page to scrutinize the few of you that are worth any amount of time, but really, it all could be scrutinized beyond whatever scrutiny I would allow beyond that. I’m sure I fall into miniscule amounts of your opinions beyond that and let’s all pretend that there is a world that I would truly care about that. Point being, I’m ashamed of most of you for relying on the same old shit. If you’re goal is to find 10 bands in an entire year worth listening to then it’s painful for me to know you. Go ahead. Delete me, but geez, I beg of you to leave me and find more interest in your life beyond that.

I’m so mad at myself for despising You right now. I never imagined a world where I would have to choose to despise You, yet here I am. What an ass You are for not being Yourself. What a chump You are for not being able to be a man. What retardation exists inside You for not being exactly who You are and thinking that You’re a better person by being a 7^th grader.

Fuck everyone.

Amen.