Apathy for the Devil?

      Today was a study in contrasts about my divorce and the resulting events that an still be felt 2 years later. Legal untangling is dirty business, and often generate powerful emotions in the participants - ranging from sadness, to hurt, to hate, to anger. I had a chance to examine the fallout within my own heart this afternoon.

       I made a statement today that in some small way, I would always love my ex-wife because she gave me my son. Having reviewed my emotions right after that statement, it is in no way true. I have no love for her at all. This is one of those simple statements that slips out of us during conversation that sounds like we are self actualized, more forgiving or nicer than we truly feel deep down.

      On the reverse, I am still receiving ripples of the poor decisions she/ we made as a couple. It is such a drag when I am still not fully able to seal the time capsule for good. However, I don't hate her either. At this point, the only feelings I have for her is disappointment as my mothers son and contempt for her refusal to realize his life is better with me. Strong feelings (of either caliber) represent a passion that I never truly possessed for her at all.

       I do hate the results of some of it, though.

The Fire of Failure

Anger, the jagged pulse of a harried society. Love may not always beget live, happiness is not always infectious, but anger is the one emotion that can be absorbed and passed universally. What is the harrowing allure of this toxic tempest that leads so many into its shrouded embrace? With a civilization driven by anxiety, fear and stress; is it any wonder that the one emotion we can all relate to equally is the red rage? I don't want to come off as a utopian hippie, but I do wish quite often that fury could be reserved for events of immense insult or danger. A flare up occurs so quickly and frequently that any small (perceived) insult can lead to an all out assault.

      I grow tired of getting upset/ angry/ unhappy. A continual stream of darkness sours my soul and bores my mind. Suspicion and mistrust leave me in a similar malaise.yet feeling externally optimistic feels so fake, and leaves others feeling manipulated or in doubt of my sincerity. Joy can feel so many ways - happiness, love, appreciation, desire. Anger falls under many names, but it always feels the same - a sense of insult in combination with a sense of attack. The level varies, but it is The same old song. Why would I feed a monster that offers me such discomfort?

     Yet, I do.

Don't Ask Me....

      When doing a thing has all the markings of being detrimental, it doesn't make sense to do so. In this way, not making sense itself makes sense. However, the compound of intelligence and impulse creates a pained idea that this thing can be done, i just have to come at it from the right angle. With desire thrown into the mix, it makes an unbearable fixation that must eventually be fed or replaced over time. I'm not very good at the "it's not meant to be" - like many before me I want a cake and a snack, but unlike others, my mind can't accept this fact and move on. Instead, I mentally keep nibbling at the edges of the cake until there is none left, and then I regret it leaving.

      I am always in some state of this mindset, but for the past few days it has been a matter of "should I stay or should I go now" (or next year, to be more precise). I found a job that I felt suited me well, but over the first five months, blemishes and frustrations have appeared (as they are wont to do) that have left me dreaming of a time past. Like that one ex that many feel "got away", time has left me with a much more understanding and positive image of my last career. While there were many good points, the negatives still lurk on the edges of my psyche.

      Do I stay where I am, making less money, but home every night? Do I take back to the road, leaving a "stable job" (the former "American Dream") to find more money (and many less weeks of work) to dedicate to school and my time at home? Which path leads to a more prominent future? What will stress my family more? Where does my desire fit in? My friends?

      A "normal" life?

Un-Whole-Y

      At some point, I hoped that the parade of pain and discomfort and self loathing would end. Even knowing that my life is better than many, my mind makes the world around my cloudy through a haze of despair. I just want to make myself better and become a stable member of the society around me. I want to be blinded to the many alternatives around me and be happy with the basic food groups. I want to feel like I have something to offer to everyone I encounter, and that I feel accepted and appreciated by those around me. Not be beholden to the constant idea that in every moment of being me will drive those closest to me away screaming into the recesses of life. Even more importantly, I wish I wasn't self aware enough to even have these thoughts. I want the confidence to create. To excel. To feel like I have a purpose beyond just existing. 

      Even in my good moments (which there have been many in recent months), I can't shake the feeling that my flaws lead to much discontent to those closest to me who have to endure my ramblings and moods and ineptitude. I have a million ways to try and get validation from those in my life that it is worth sharing with me, yet I still thank them at every turn because I have always felt that any time people choose to spend with me could be spent doing so many things that are more meaningful - but they give those moments to me. Almost all of my best moments in life have been spent in the company of others - how much fantastic really happens alone? 

     My career choice leads me to more confusion and feeling of hopelessness - at 40 years old I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I have had many jobs, I still have many choices, but I have no direction or belief that I can become succesful at any of them. I'm in school fr business, but where will that leave me (besides in debt) in 3 years when I get a bachelors degree? Will I just be a better qualified minion? I hope it does do something for me; narrow the options and provide me a path for the next 20 years. 

     Unless that writing thing takes off.

     Maybe it's just me. (Isn't it always?) Is there a way to change the motivation, the perception, the hope in what I see? Jokes roll off my tongue, experiences form behind me; here I sit wanting... something. Whatever I was created with that is missing, internally I still realize within my intuition that it just isn't there. Is there a way to convince my mind that whatever I don't have is not worth having? I'm still waiting for that moment. A happy life with all the wonders trumped by a melancholy mind.

     I am still alive, so there is always hope.

Death and Dream entered a bar...

     Friday night was the 5th annual Sandman's ball at the Cat Club in SOMA in San Francisco. A night themed for the amazing comic book from Neil Gaiman, I had been waiting excitedly for months to attend this celebration of my favorite comic book from my teen years. I recruited a few friends to accompany me on my night of frolicking, and it was a grand experience that was well worth the wait.

     The bar was themed with sandman paraphernalia strewn across the walls, with many people showing up in some form of Sandman T-shirts, costumes of the characters in the comics or a very gothic tone. The series always maintained a dark edge, and the lights throughout the club set the mood for the night. The front room of the club had a "dream" vibe, with very ethereal and psychedelic vibe that was very calming. The back room was the "death" room, which which played a much heavier style that appealed to my senses and was my station for most of the night. The dance floors in both rooms writhed with a variety of different types of dancers, and the mood in the building truly felt like a chaotic celebration of people with a common interest enjoying good music and good times together.

      I look forward to more events to come at the Cat club, and for anyone who loves a themed music night in a great atmosphere, this would be the best place in town! 

So Let It Be Written.....

     Today I have been thinking a great deal about motivation and a sense of self worth. General logic holds that those who do not continuously drive forward in pursuit of life's goals are lazy, lacking in the burning desire to succeed. Many hang their crowns upon the spoils of success, always regaling others with the perils they were forced to overcome, the long hours of sacrifice the forged them into time tested juggernauts. It is an all to common theme amongst conversations (some part truth, some part fairy tale) that leaves many of us gawking in admiration at the accomplishments that we can universally admire. However, where do we draw the line? What is the differentiation between healthy obsession and maniacal psychosis? When does hard work become "workaholic"?

      When dealing with motivation (or 'drive', as oft alluded to), the idea is that we have a great purpose that allows us to overcome any obstacle, at any cost, to achieve the final objective. People, circumstance, knowledge (and even health) will not stand in the way to our path toward 'this great thing'. In my humble opinion, this already sets a bad tone to the action - it is not enough just to do this thing, it must become a life purpose that be sated in order to feel worthwhile. It is no longer enough to do for the sake of doing. As human beings, we are not stationary creations..... Should our desires be? We all change daily, what happens when we reach the goal and no longer desire the outcome?

     Additionally, the line of thought that those that are not driven at all costs are 'lazy'. Certainly, there are people who inhabit this planet that are inherently unmotivated, but that is not the complete solution. Does their lack of motivation come from not wanting to leave the television? That's lazy. Just as many people lack motivation due to their built in insecurities. It's not that they don't want to achieve, they have a stumbling block in their heart and minds that cause them to falter and submit. That is not laziness, it is our humanity handicapping us. I am one of these people. I want to write a book..... I have had this dream for decades. I have the desire. I have the skill. Yet, whenever I think about sitting down to write, a gentle coaxing tells me, "What do I have to say of interest?" Other feelings of inadequacy join in and soon I find myself in 'paralysis by analysis' - insecurity given in a logical format that takes the momentum of creativity I need. Am I lazy? Flawed? Broken? All of the above?

      

Don't Be Afraid of a Little Discomfort

     It seems so simple to me, the point of living is doing and being and experiencing everything that I can. With so many people locked into their routine and huddled safely in the cell of their comfort zone, how could I possibly hope to illustrate the joy of the unknown? Hiding safely in myopia, what words can illustrate the world awaiting them on the other side of their bias? We all know that our perceptions of events are often misleading and wholly inaccurate, yet still we cling to them as the weathervane of our choices within our reality. 

      What is the allure of the known? Why the fear of doing something unexpected, new? I have had so many great experiences on a flight of fancy, which is in keeping with my bipolar disorder. Even more, I have ignored a perceived ideal of an event to go forward and enjoy a great experience that I would have shunned otherwise. I have learned that there is a beauty to doing things I have never done before, to throw myself upon the fates and see where it winds up. 

      The steady loop of the same things (even going out drinking, as fun as it might be), becomes just another line on a daily checklist of repetition in an event less life. It is funny how people that live this way always feel that life flies by. If the scenery never changes, how can you expect the passage of time to be a real thing? It's all the differences in day to day living that make life stand out; memories made in moments become the mile markers we see on the road behind.  In seeking safety, what many actually get is wasted time and vapid minds.

      But it's only one mans opinion.

With Apologies to 1993

     What is love? If I Had a way to describe it, I would say it's what is right, and what is wrong (give me a sign). *Grin*  Love is one of the most mystical of conversations that is argued about with great passion and gusto by many (for good reason). However, this is one of those things that people seek so long, desire so bad, that there is as much chance of achieving it successfully as there is finding a perverse offshoot that has nothing in common with the concept or to never finding it all.

     When people chase and fixate on a passion, they can find ways to suit their desire to appear as moments of circumstance. Chasing skirts. Falling for anyone who pays attention. Fantasy. There are those who take any chance to to pair off, even when it causes them to change who they are and settle for what they feel they should want, as opposed to what they truly desire. Even still, some cross the line into illegal pursuits of fancy and their whims take on a much darker meaning.

     Then there are those folks who are looking for a particular set of traits that the (perfect) mate possesses. By making a specific model, these people are left wanting and let many opportunities at happiness slip by for minor variances. While not setting an idea can lead to settling for an unsuitable partner, having to fine a set of details leads to a near impossibility of finding a person with all of the attributes. For some, it appears better to be alone than to accept anything other than Prince Charming. 

"I define love thus: The will to extend one's selloff the purpose

of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth."

- M. Scott Peck

      The joys of love are many, and the thoughts of the many are of sharing life with a partner in joy and peace. As such, life (and love) gain there power from the power of possibility. It is only from keeping an open mind and self awareness that true love can be uncovered and grown in to. In defining love as happiness and a need of another, then no set of rules can prepare you for the eventuality of where love will inspire you. What you will find is that your answers will be intuitive, as opposed to logical. You will feel the arrival of your loved one, which is why often we recognize what our heart has known for some time. The heart knows what the mind eventually discovers.

      If we are just aware and accept what we sense.

Is This What Nostradamus Felt like?

      One of the driving forces of bipolar is the desire (and ability) to act from a place of pure desire in every moment. Life is always in the 'now', and the decision has no future and no past. It is an incredibly free existence, as long as your decisions have no downstream impact. However, it is easy to imagine how destructive it could be when other responsibilities (job, people, creditors, health) are negatively impacted by a spur of the moment decision. You cannot reason against the disease process, and the damage is found in the aftermath.

      However, recently I have had remote visions that have slipped into my conscience, the likes of which I ever clearly see. A pattern of events that likely would unfold from an impulse decision considered in the throes of a maniacal fit. Where I once only saw the direct moment - "if this, then that", I now have begun seeing a more lateral sequence of events. If I stay up late drinking and carousing, work tomorrow will be challenging (or I may not go in at all). If I buy this thing I don't need now, I will only have to work harder later on to compensate. 

      If I do something to make the wife uncomfortable or unhappy, I will only create unrest within myself in the long run.

      Even though logically I am always aware that actions have consequences, it is only over the past few years I have begun to craft the skill of stopping for a moment to visualize the complete solution. There are times the event is worth it (risking sleep to comfort a friend) and those it is not (closing down the bar with the kids because - I'll deal with the fallout tomorrow!). I'm not sure I would christen this 'maturity' as much as continuing to evolve as a human being and a partner. It feels great to preempt problems I only create myself.

      In action, I choose to take responsibility. In choosing not to act, I do the same. Every memory doesn't need my mark, every purchase doesn't make sense and sometimes the only right reasoning is to do nothing at all. Good things come to those who wait.... Great things come to those who wait for a self actualized goal. The choice to not act is still a choice I make, not a dictate handed down to me by circumstance. Accepting my role instead of playing victim makes all the difference in the world.

Oh, the Humanity! (Pride, Shame and the Bookends)

       I go to bed with a heavy heart tonight, after the events of this day. This was one of those days that, when you sit down to review at the end of the night, there are very powerful images and ideas sprinkled throughout the day. A time when the human condition can be defined and reviewed clearly.

     My eight year old son spent today, his birthday, in the hospital watching the specter that has become his grandmother wither away. In a classic drama trope, life and death met at the crossroads, leaving a drug addled woman to give the gift of one more smile for my son to remember her by. When all else fails us mentally in our final days, love has shown it can pull us back to the surface for one last visit, no matter how fleeting. It's a wonderfully romantic notion of love conquering all, but in the end it remains that my son will always have the memories and a personal fairy godmother to learn from, even in passing.

     In juxtaposition, I got into a tiff with the love of my life that boiled down to a battle of pride, will and a determination to be heard. On it's own, I am embarrassed - not for the emotions, but for betraying myself by wasting a single second in negativity in the limited time I have to share with my doll face. It never ceases to amaze me how human.... how PETTY..... I can become when my learned emotions of pride, selfishness, discontent rears it ugly head - a contentious Cerebus of who handed down to me by society. When framed with the reality of my sons day, I feel so tiny, a small animal fighting for a snack. Yet even this knowledge won't always be enough to curb my actions when my little pride is wounded again. Why do we do this to ourselves.... Teaching our children the ethos of self protection in place of self celebration? Must I have an ego merely to rejoice in my being on this planet? Sharing the best of all possible outcomes with my chosen one?

     I cannot do anything to go back and unlearn the habits that continue to hinder me. What I can do is try to learn new habits that will elevate me past them. It won't be easy, but not much in my life that I have gained is. I can be sure things will never be easy, I just have to feel sure they are worth it.

A cold chill in the air

A mind lost in a sea

Of darkness and absence

In a moment of clarity

A light lifts above 

The faded horizon,

A last glimpse of what was

But never will be again.

A reminder of self

Kept inward to avoid breaking

Rejoiced upon and shared

As the Archangel hovers.

We should not need to 

Be reminded

That we must not forget.

Take away the scenery 

And the self pronounced

Obligations,

In order to be alive

One must take the time

To live. 

The true sign of 

A life lived

Comes at the end,

With a death

That releases

Instead of ends.

Then, the Rage

     After days of depression comes the flip side of bipolar - the manic phases filled with irritability and a lack of patience for people's shortcomings. Not the best combination when you are working in retail. Especially in the "big city" with snobbish jerks and self righteous retards. Just to make the perfect horror show, I forgot to take my medication this morning. All the seeds were planted for a combustible combonation.
      I tried to start my day off well, listening to my music on the way into work to try and set my mood in the right way. The traffic was the same stupid people in bruises as always, but I navigated it the same as always - leaving early to allow plenty of time and less stress to arriving on time. I talked with my wife and my best friend about the (very positive) decision I had made in the past 24 hours, and they certainly helped make me feel like the darkness of depression had passed and I felt much better about myself and my choices. There were two polar opposites (see what I did there?) that were coming together to produce a day that could go any number of ways. That is what awaited me....
     When I got to work, I felt really good and the day started off well. In what would become a running theme, I had the first of a number of customers who came into the Apple store with a dark aura and a chippy attitude. The strain of my mental condition combined with these people who feel justified in being jerks to customer service agents made it very necessary to keep my emotions in constant view and take breathers when needed. All the way up until close, people came in with surly demeanors, like there was a bad moon afoot. However, with the support of my coworkers and my internal resilience, I made it through the day with my head held high and my knuckles unmarred.
     What people generally misunderstand about bipolar is the mania side of the equation. Depression is relatively easy to understand, as we all have experience with being 'blue' or 'miserable', if not worse. However, mania gets the reputation for those in a manic state buying new cars or feeling invincible; leaving many to think that mania is a 'pleasant' type of disease to have, much like having a nymphomaniac (there's that word again) for a wife. Much like the latter, there is a leering dark side to mania where it leaves the sufferer to feel highly irritable, having racing thoughts that leave you unable to concentrate, gives you a tendency to fixate constantly on something dark in your mind that tortures you incessantly and shifts decision making focus from logic to pleasure (the pleasure principle - therein explaining where the new car that can't be paid for comes from - and worse), It's hard to explain in a way to people who don't have mania how disconcerting and frustrating it is to be in a frame of mind to act out in fun for the moment that you will pay for greatly after you 'come down'. Racing thoughts seems like a good thing - thinking about fie or six things at one time - but it's not a complete thought process, it's just multiple things clouding your mind with an inability to grasp and manipulate any of them, leaving me confused and frustrated by my inability to function mentally at my best. Notice, however, that I didn't use the Hollywood standard of uncontrolled violence. Frustration and violence are different things, HOLLYWOOD.
     I made it through one of thousands of days I have spent in my life riding the wild fluctuations involved in the bipolar disease process.I have never asked pity or excuse for what I have, only understanding from those who might give me the benefit of the doubt. I have a day of rest ahead, after which I will take my medication and try and get back to the right frame of mind before work on Sunday. I can rest easy on my ability to (finally) make a mature decision and the God sent support system I have in my wife, my best friend and those who care for me and are willing to listen to my maniacal mumblings until I can finally figure it our or here it for myself. I'm getting better......

The Fog is Inside Today

     Even though I have gotten a lot better, today was a rude reminder that I am still a diseased human being. My mind set forth on self loathing and contempt, there was nothing to do but just keep moving and hope it didn't grip my faculties for too long at any point. With all of the personal growth I feel I have shown in the past few weeks, it only takes a chemical flare up to send me back to the fractured mind I have known in different variations my whole life. History is spotted with great men who suffered and ultimately overcame. Let's not kid ourselves, I have no greatness within me. I suffer only to crawl forward in hopes of finally overcoming the Judas within my head.

     One thing I thought about all day is how much those around me tell me what a great person I am, how much I have to offer society as a whole, how much I just don't see it.  On days like today, it goes another level and I don't even believe I'm as good of a person as I believe that I am. I feel worthless, flawed, fraudulent and irrelevant. I wish I could be a better person for all of those around me, stronger and able to offer more to their lives. A laugh is fine, but it doesn't make up for all my shortcomings.

      It has become readily apparent to me however that I have a need for caring and affection and a hug every day. I am not depressed that my wife is gone, but her presence is the panacea that calms the demons when they start their chaotic chorus to pit my heart and mind against me. I always felt like the distraction of people's company made me forget, but I can readily admit that I need to be cared for, to add to my daily peace and to give me something more than any chemical can. However, I am strong and I will attempt to climb from bed tomorrow and leave this malaise in the mirror.

      I am self aware, however. I will never be great looking, no matter how much weight I lose. I will never be a 'hard worker' in the grand vein of millionaires. I don't have the most responsible demeanor. I don't have the best jokes or the greatest personality. I have a heart and a whole bunch of average to offer those I care for. Is that enough? It's not mine to say. That's up to those who surround me and save me every day. I just have to keep moving and allow life to form begins me.....

Legends, Icons, People

     The world lost two great personalities in a matter of weeks, and I wanted to take a moment to provide my own memorial to these fallen warriors. I am a mark, and I am proud of that fact. In a world cloaked in stories and looked down upon even in current society, these men built careers and entertained people to a level where there names became world renowned and known to those passive fans that make up a large portion of wrestling's fan base, especially in a time where Pro Wrestling was still trying to pass itself off as legitimate, and people were emotionally invested in the doings of the hero and villains that graced the ring. In the past month we have lost one of each - "American Dream" Dusty Rhodes and "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.

       From my beginnings in the 1980's, when I obtained the pro wrestling bug, I was always fascinated by the guys who cut a great "promo", the strong talkers who could speak in a way that drew the audience in with emotions and intelligence beyond the standard "I'm going to whup your booty". Dusty was the emotional center of the wrestling landscape - a man who was "the common man" who embodied the feelings and desires of every fan in the crowd. They could relate to his words, they could relate to his physique and the fans could always life vicariously through his accomplishments. "The son of a plumber" became the saint of the middle class. Oh, how he could talk - telling stories of "Hard Times" and "Dining with Kings and Queens" - made the fans at home feel that he was the guy sitting next to them at the bar. An emotional connection with the fans for a man that never turned away from being the everyman.

     Roddy Piper was more bombastic, more intelligent and he was able to utilize his intellect to stimulate the emotions that made him the most hated man in the 1980's, and one of the most beloved throughout the next decade. His technique never changed - always a mix of mischief and malice - only his choice of opponent differed. His words inspired the emotions he sought from the crowd, and his maniacal energy created a man that - face or heel - always drew the fans attention to him and his endeavors. The "Rowdy Scot" always came to fight, and ultimately to entertain.

      Both of these men gave decades to the sport they loved, each incurring a laundry list of injuries and surgeries throughout their career. Rowdy Roddy ultimately required enough surgeries on his hip that he became practically immobile later in his career. Big Dust was never an adonis of any sort, but he always had the stamina and movement to go all night, and bleed buckets. The lines that shown on his scarred forehead were telling signs of the many times he "gigged" (cut his forehead with a blade) throughout his illustrious career - a testament to the bodily sacrifice he was willing to give to the people he stood for time after time. These are the reasons wrestlers are always offended with the viability of there craft is question - the result is predetermined but the injury and dangers are very real, and worthy of the people's respect. (John Stossel - hello!)

      Many days spent on the road and hotels of America were a sacrifice they were willing to give to be the athletes they had chosen to become. When studying the hierarchy of wrestling and how these men climb the ranks, there are many instances of courage and determination when traveling the independent scene for no money and experience to finally starting to establish a name. Not only are these athletes on par with any of the organized sports leagues, they have a more devastating annual demand that doesn't allow for healing and rest.

      I digress. These men were icons of the sport of pro wrestling, and they were people who dealt with all the same trials and tribulations of us all while living on the road and giving the fans and the business their bodies and souls. Unlike their peers who get the press for dying young, they made it to a point in life where they were past their career, but the strain of that career probably still them from us too young. Theirs were personalities that, within the brotherhood of the squared circle, will be deeply missed for their courage, their history and the respect they carried. Among the masses, their loss reminds us of so many great moments where they took us an emotional voyage that ended in our 'coronation' in their success and leaves us remembering a different time for us all. So long gentlemen - thank you for a lifetime of wonder and empowerment.

What Hath We Wrought?

     Ours has become a society of self righteous indignation at any mention of civility or sense, it would seem. The loud minorities lift up their flag of the disenfranchised and lash out at every perceived slight. Manners, tradition and intent be damned; if they see fit to impose their will on others (ironically, this is usually done when THEY feel put upon), the world is to sit up and respect their wishes!

      There is a current firestorm around an article that proclaimed that a woman should be skinny to wear a crop top. Logically, a woman would want to show her best assets, and having her belly pop out from under a short shirt seems counter intuitive, at the very least. For the uninitiated, the shirt in question leaves a few inches between the bottom of the shirt and the jeans, exposing the belly button. So, large women everywhere took to Twitter to show they too could wear the shirt in question! Damn society for the cruelty of shirts only for skinny women! You know what? All they did was succeed in looking like bitter harpies in the matter. Just because it is possible doesn't make it reasonable.

      Then you have the 'great' legislation passed in South Carolina over the confederate flag. A bunch of politicians vowed to controversy and made a decision FOR their constituents that the flag belonged on state grounds no longer. Why? Because a psychopath had it in his Facebook photos. However, when ANOTHER Islamic radical attacks our military on home soil, where are the cries to corral the 'jihadists'? Somehow, that is given a passing glance because..... Why?? Also, why wasn't this change voted on by the VOTERS of the state to determine?

     Even here at home, a group of construction workers who work for s construction firm are protesting the CLIENT of the firm (with a much bigger name) to make the construction contractor pay its workers differently. How does THAT work? Everyone is a victim in this capitalist enterprise - except for the people whose ideas/ companies are being besmirched in public opinion. There are many more examples as foolish and irresponsible, but in the end, none of it matters. We have become a nation of victims who preach against injustice by seeking to criminalize everyone else.

      And it SUCKS.