Monday, October 5, 2009

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 231

"Oh Well" by Fiona Apple

What you did to me made me

See myself something different

Though I try to talk sense to myself

But I just won't listen

Won't you go away

Turned yourself in

You're no good at confession

Before the image that you burned me in

Tries to teach you a lesson

What you did to me made me see myself somethin' awful

A voice once stentorian is now again meek and muffled

It took me such a long time to get back up the first time you did it

I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems I've been outbidded

My peace and quiet was stolen from me

When I was looking with calm affection

You were searching out my imperfections

What wasted unconditional love

On somebody

Who doesn't believe in the stuff

You came upon me like a hypnic jerk

When I was just about settled

And when it counts you recoil

With a cryptic word and leave a love belittled

Oh what a cold and common old way to go

I was feeding on the need for you to know me

Devastated at the rate you fell below me

What wasted unconditional love

On somebody

Who doesn't believe in the stuff

Oh, welL

Sunday, May 10, 2009

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 230

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 230

May 10, 2009

So, I hear that today is Mother’s Day. Not that it’s the first that I’ve heard this or that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve got several messages saying people are doing the “mother’s day thing” or “they HAVE to hang with their mom”. I get these sorts of messages every Hallmark or genuinely well-felt holiday.

My mother just reached Kansas. I like to think that it’s not because she doesn’t think or hope that me or my brother couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything for her, but that she is what I feel I am. A free spirit and that life is short and you have to take advantage of every opportunity.

However, every message that I got on such holidays where my family is in other parts of the country (they only live an hour away) or just not doing anything, I seem to get some message that implies that there is some sort of tradition involved that I am either missing, too chauvinistic to entertain or that I’m too stupid to understand the important significance that someone else put into a date whether it be decades, centuries or thousands of years ago.

I appreciate tradition. I know my roommate reads this, so I apologize if anything I say is offensive because I certainly don’t mean things this way, but I know that most Christmas traditions are pagan and that Thanksgiving has nothing to do with God and that whether you partake in Easter Sunday alone or include Passover vs. Lent or what not that it all boils down to one thing. What have you done? What has brought you together with people in your family or your life? One of our Christmas traditions revolved around my grandfather’s birthday. December 22. The Payne family Christmas (my mother’s side of the family of course). It used to be a standard, traditional, this is the day kind of holiday. We’d get together with my teeny tiny side of the family and exchange gifts. We had a kiddie table. We had a birthday cake for my grandfather. It happened to be 3 days before Christmas. I don’t really think any of the actual portions of the tradition were important, but they were there. You got off work, you did your thing and it was just what we did. Even before Papaw died though it started getting more and more to the insignificant point that it didn’t matter which day it was. We were happy to work with each other’s schedules and still kept the tradition alive regardless of the date. I used to fight to keep tradition alive and would be really upset when we didn’t do the things that we always did because they were our tradition. It was one of the few things we did as a family that we kept alive for so many years.

I have a very small family and I think that makes dates and traditions even more important. I don’t have a mom or dad with 7 brothers or sisters who also have 7-14 brothers or sisters. We kept our baby-making simple. Yet, most of us are estranged from each other. I think about my mom a lot when I think of how she just in the past two years started babysitting my 1st cousin’s (one of the 4) twins. I think about how she probably didn’t even have a connection to my cousin, her niece until that happened. Not in the way that I seem to notice in the way other people identify with their families. She spends so much time with them and I know that my mother knows that she will never have grandkids from me and that my brother and his girlfriend may not be in that place either and that she has had to use my cousins to find that sense of “grandchild” with a family member that she may have never recognized as strongly as she has until she got a chance to take care of that person’s children.

My mom would be a fantastic grandmother and I feel sometimes like I’m depriving her of that, even when I know she doesn’t really feel that way. I feel like she doesn’t feel that way though because she’s being logical. Not because she doesn’t want to. I feel guilty.

Maybe I’ve done her a favor because she has a chance to have a relationship with a family member that she may have never had. My baby could have kept her from that.

These are all what ifs. It makes no difference because it changes nothing.

I’m in love with a beautiful man who would make beautiful children with me and be a beautiful father but that we would most likely royally screw up because of our lifestyles and the fact that true happiness has always become before these things that people seem to think are “normal”.

Which brings me back to a point I was trying to make when I started this. What is normal? What is tradition? Telling me that you’re doing the “mother’s day thing” or that you are being forced to be with your mother today is silly. I would love to be with my mother today, but my mother is driving through Kansas right now. On her way back from Indiana, Illionis, Wisconsin, Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Kentucky and Ohio. Your mom made you go to dinner because she probably guilted you into it. Mine has a life and in turn I have my own life because somehow, without realizing it, that has been instilling in me. That life is short and that we should be living our own lives, regardless of tradition. What is a freaking mother’s day tradition anyway? I’ve never seen it in a Norman Rockwell painting because every fucking day should be a day we give a shit about anything whether it be our mothers, our families, our friends, our alone time, our jobs, our parties, our drinking, our sobriety, our religions,…… I really could just go on. Life isn’t a painting, but it can be expressed in one. It’s not about believe in a tradition because we can make our own and it’s ok if it’s based on something other people have done before. It just has to mean something. Any of this should just mean something.

The fact that my parents go to Amish country on Thanksgiving and to Montana for Mother’s Day and that if we can’t get together for a birthday or Christmas, that it’s still ok. It’s just a day and it doesn’t matter what day it is, it matter when we’re together. I personally wish it were more, but lives get complicated and even the way we have relationships with our families, let alone our friends, is always changing.

Screw you for thinking I know what yours is.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

My Bipolar Jouranl - Episode 229

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 229

March 7, 2009

It’s Not My Fault

By Boomkat

You know I felt much better when I had you

With me the thunder and lightning was so beautiful

But I awoke from the dream just like i always seem to

It all feels so real



So everybody I know, they know me well

Enough to know to get close, is hard as hell

But that don't mean you shouldn't try

I really think you should try,ay,ay



I 've tried to fight it, but now I am on my knees and,



It's not my fault

If I can’t hold on, I'm not that strong,

Nooo...it's not my fault

Can't you just play along with me.



It's been so long since we slept in the same bed

It's hard to get me alone or get inside my head

Would you prefer me to fake it and cry instead

You say it's like I'm dead



I've tried to fight it, but now I am on my knees and,



It's not my fault

If I can’t hold on, I'm not that strong,

Nooo...it's not my fault

Can't you just play along with me.



I, find that everything I try always falls apart

and crashes and dies and

I, find the strength to try again

oh, I fall to my knees, and pray to begin



It's not my fault

If I can’t hold on, I'm not that strong,

Nooo...it's not my fault

Can't you just play along with me.

Monday, March 2, 2009

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 228

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 228

March 2, 2009

I feel like I just took a shower 5 seconds ago. Well, I did, but I mean the shower before that. Is it only Monday or is it Monday yet? Time’s either going very fast or very slow, but I can’t seem to choose one. There’s a part of me that wants both.

I have so much dribble built up.

Where the fuck to people get off calling me a “people” anyway? I’m clearly barely alive most of the time. February is over, but I’m stuck in it still. It’s too damn cold. Part of me is convinced that if I see one more damned flake of snow I’m driving until I fall into the Grand Canyon. I’ve always wanted to see that. Then I know that’s the wrong way to die.

I think like a teenager most of the time, but I’ll be 32. I’m all emo and depressing and think talking about killing me is cool as long as it’s in a rational manner. I kick my own ass in my sleep, but as many bruises as I’ve consumed I could easily get away with telling someone that I got my ass kicked by some mean dude. I never would, but I’m lame enough for those thoughts to enter my head. I’m so glad this is my last birthday because then I can be whatever I want. I want to shave half my head just to know what it would feel like, but I’m pretty sure I’d just turn out looking like a dykey lesbian. Not the pretty lesbians, but that it would be mullet-like, just got back from jail and drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels kind of lesbian and nobody wants that.

I’m pretty sure that I’m still mad about something that is stupid to be mad about and that I should have known all along. I’m probably just mad at myself for actually letting it upset me when I knew it was going to happen. It’s so hard to tell sometimes though. In a way, what this weekend brought was what I like to think of as answers, but what if they’re the wrong answers? Well, I guess at least they’re still answers I suppose.

I’m excited about things to come and then I ask myself why because I know I’m just going to end up whining and crying and getting classified yet again by people who have already classified me no matter how I’ll react. I could walk away skipping and jumping, but it wouldn’t matter to them anymore.

I don’t mind my crazy. I like it. I can’t imagine feeling tied down by an alarm clock or someone else’s schedule whether it is a diaper change or day light savings time. I’d make up my own time, but then no one would understand me anymore. Does that matter when they don’t understand me anyway?

I’m not jaded by one man, I’m jaded by the world. I continue to seek out people who are truly happy and usually come up empty handed. Even people who say they’re happy I see being unhappy and just convincing themselves they are because someone told them that if they follow all the instructions in the Life brochure they should be happy. I don’t have low self esteem, I think that people are confused by what good self esteem is.

My thoughts are too close to my brain today.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 227

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 227

January 8, 2009

Beautiful
10 Years

Beauty over wisdom to fit in with their style
Your Cinderella story's for a price
Vanity's a business built to fleece the unique
Silicon and stars collide, the rest will fall in line

Just as beautiful as you are
It's so pitiful what you are
You should have seen this coming all along

Visually you're stimulating to my eyes
Your Cinderella syndrome's full of lies
Your insecurities are concealed by your pride
Pretty soon your ego will kill what's left inside

Just as beautiful as you are
It's so pitiful what you are
You should have seen this coming all along
It's so pitiful what you are
As beautiful as you are
You should have seen this coming all along

You're everything that's so typical
Maybe you're alone for a reason, you're the reason
It's so pitiful what you are, you should have seen this
Coming all along

Just as beautiful as you are
It's so pitiful what you are
You should have seen this coming all along
It's so pitiful what you are
As beautiful as you are
You should have seen this coming all along

Saturday, January 3, 2009

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 226

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 226

January 3, 2009

Just watched Elizabethtown again and it leaves me asking the question… who's left? Not many. It's dwindled down to just a few that are barely there. Some of them will be back, some of them may not and it's impossible to know who. I had a friend who was supposed to make sure things got taken care of and he was kidnapped by the god of People Who Think They're Better Than Everyone Else. You and your 12 invisible steps of being better than me can blow my ass. Next in line? Not even speaking to me. Next in line? Can't even tell if he's speaking to me.

I'm sorry I'm so damned picky and so damned stubborn and so damned forgiven, but really it's just left me damned. I don't want there to be anyone else. I had hand-picked you all so perfectly and you sit there beyond me perfectly without me. Without giving me a chance to explain or without a chance to an explanation. And I still want you all back. I don't want anyone else. There are plenty of volunteers, but I dismiss them because it just doesn't compare and I can't settle for second best. It's not in my nature. I'd rather have no one know what it is that I need and want. I'd rather leave the remains to the sharks and would willingly do so, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I just want to get it out. I want to put everything out there all the time. I don't care about the fairy tale of "too much information". It's apparently not too much information if I choose to share it and you choose to read it.

I don't really know what to expect from writing these things down all the time. Sometimes I get things I never expected, but mostly all I get is things off my chest. Sometimes I think it through and realize I'm a dumbass and erase everything I wrote. Sometimes I hope secretly (even though I don't want to admit it) that someone I'm eluding to will read this and figure something out for themselves. Sometimes the world just disturbs me. Sometimes my brain fights through the insanity and then recoils in fear of normalcy.

I suppose sometimes it's like Tolkien and you can write and entire novel based on seeing a blade of grass and describing it for 66 chapters into a fantasy world that you wish you were in with that one blade of grass. Sometimes people read your fantasy and it's the best thing they've ever read and sometimes they find the endless description painful and wish it could be shortened into a 9 hour movie trilogy because at least they see the appeal. Others wonder why anyone would use their imagination to such an extent in the first place and continue to figure out how to make their real life fit into a fantasy scrapbook that they wish it was, or at least that they've seen in magazines and on TV.

I feel lost. My anchors are missing and they were the last three I had on the ship, so I'll just keep floating and land wherever fate decides to plop me.