No Mal

      I write these blogs as a way to record my life and share in the hope to help others and give myself meaning. I am bipolar and odd and opinionated and I have come much farther in life (on every level) than I ever intended. Still, there are times when I get the feeling that I'm not really doing anything at all; the sense that I have this life thing all wrong.

     I always wanted my life to be a tale of triumph - of the spirit and heart and circumstance. Yet, time and again, the truth of who I am shines through and I realize how insignificant I can be next to everyone else. Our collective humanity is our weakness, but my humanity is as shallow as a puddle and as frail as an egg carton. I am a demon of my own design.

     My inability to truly effect change or joy in those around me seems to resound from the motif that makes me who I am; the gaping flaws that make me accessible also make me frustrating and untenable. The pieces of life have time and again fallen around me like post-tornado shrapnel, but the belief was always in the currents of life causing the destruction. It occurs to me that the whirling dervish my well have been me: a Tazmanian Devil of emotional ineptitude. Being bipolar may shade my view of the present, but more and more I come to feel that the disruption lies squarely on my shoulders as a Judas to my own professed cause.

      Now that I am aware of this reality, all I can imagine to do is hibernate from the world. A life lived as work, school, home, repeat causes few ripples in the gentle ecosystem. My current refrain causes me to leave a constant echo of distress on life's ocean. It's almost a curse to those who love me: "May you find love in an intesting person". I am sorry for all that I cause I'm the general flow of being.

     If only lobotomies were more practical. If only I were more... Plain.