Hello lovelies,
It just occurred to me that one, I have a blog that hasn't been written on in an age and two it was around this time six years ago that I first received the all powerful diagnosis. I was 16 at the time. I sat in this little room in a nice comfy swivelly chair. My psychiatrist gave me the news. She didn't stop there though...
So, we're going to give you some of this drug and a little of that one. We're not entirely sure how they work. You'll be fine though, there is only a minute possibility they can result in your sudden and irreversible death. Oh, by the way, don't worry if they make you really drowsy and hate your life even more, that is a common side effect. We have our best and brightest garden gnomes working on it. There's your cards, go and play with them. Take this crate of medication to ensure your stability and have fun. Also, for telling you this and signing a bit of paper which affirms your insanity, that will be $1376. Cheque, savings or credit?
Fair to say, I didn't like shrinks much back then. Six years on, despite finding one that contains more human and less drug dispensing monkey; my opinion hasn't changed much.
Anyway, back to the past. I was 16. I was told that I have this thing, this mental thing, that makes your head go up and down. You can be pretending to be Jesus one minute and treating each supper like your last the next. The four or so manic episodes I had experienced, two of which had required hospitalisation were suddenly explained in but one word. Bipolar.
Names have power. Knowing what I was up against made it easier to deal. Knowing that there were other people with the same thing as me walking (sometimes floating) around the earth somehow provided comfort.
When I was in hospital after receiving the diagnosis, a lovely mental health nurse paid me a visit one afternoon. She handed over an armful of books. I have Bipolar too! These really helped me get my head around it. So I read. For six months, I read whatever I could get my claws on about all things two poled. From autobiographies to haiku poems. I read everything. Twice. Suddenly, this giant thing that sounded mean and scary was just another thing. I was going to beat it.
Sadly, it is not that easy. Knowing what something is and knowing how to 'beat' it are two different kettles of clown fish. It has been a long six years. I have learnt a lot. There is still more to learn. Late last year I had my first fairly serious mania in an age. I managed to get out of it without a trip to hospital, only just. Each severe mood state, be it high or low, left or right is a lesson in resilience. I have quite a bit of it by now. I was 16 then, I am 22 now. I like to think I am much better at managing myself now than I was then. You can't put a young head on old shoulders and perhaps I am foolish trying to think that far back.
I don't see nor have I ever really seen bipolar as a negative. I enjoy the fact that for 50% of the year my brain outputs at 200%. I like the way I am able to relate to and empathise with all manner of people. If only I could just destroy winter and that little bit at the start of spring. Maybe a few other patches in between, life wouldn't be so bad.
I went and saw my GP the other day. I sat in the waiting room for 34 minutes. I went into the consultation room with him. He asked me how I was doing, gave me two scripts and a blood test form. I went to reply to his question and found myself already at the receptionists counter paying $70. If I were to charge him for my 34 minutes at the rate I was charged, he would owe me $1190. I have learnt a lot in six years. My advice, if you like money don't get diagnosed with a mental illness.
Stay Awesome!
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Winter is coming....
Well actually, it is here. My most hated season. Apologies for June, it just slipped me by. I have been a very busy little vegemite since that last soppy post about not Mother's Day. There have been some up's and downs. Wise old wizards and young dogs with old tricks. Not to mention, the constant urge to bang my head against the sign on the back of the door at work which says 'bang head here' (the youth worker is a genius).
Through the months of May and June, I came to realise why my head shrinker was so keen on me getting a job last year. Between work, camping trips and all round activity, I barely got a chance to scratch my arse let alone think about the whole bipolar thing. Turns out sometimes what shrinks say is not complete and utter bullshit.
Problem being, when life gets busy you tend to loose your mindfulness. By the time I had beavered my way through my hectic May/June schedule, it turned out I was a little down and hadn't even noticed. Apparently being busy is great for your mental health. That is of course, until the busy dries up and you are left sleeping for 14 hours a day, eating far too much junk food and being generally miserable.
I learn the most from falling. The other day I had two such falls and learnt two important lessons. Number one, do not attempt to drive to work before fully removing that cursed winter frost from your windscreen. Number two, there are 10mm in a cm not 100 and if you try to tell one of your students otherwise, it may take a while to recover. Kids can be so cruel. Still, I will never make either mistake again. The first being outright dangerous and the second just plain stupid.
In the same way, I learnt from having such a plate full for those few months. The lesson is that no matter how busy I get, I still need to find the time to be mindful of my mood. It may not sound like much to those of you that aren't 'mentally interesting' but when you are prone to extreme mood states, knowing where ones head is at becomes pretty important.
Winter is my most hated season. Especially in this miserable little backwater. I am too uncoordinated for all those cool winter type things like snowboarding, ice skating and making snow angels. I am also kind of grossed out by the steam that comes off the ground when you go out for a whiz in sub zero. Fortunately, the days have started getting longer and the apparently dangerous morning frost on my windscreen is getting thinner. Bring on the Spring I say and may it be a very long Summer.
Sadly I cannot bore you any more for I must go and study some maths. I did however find this video of amusing animals for your enjoyment. Let's face it, if you took away all the porn, animals doing amusing things for our entertainment would be all that was left.
Stay awesome!
Through the months of May and June, I came to realise why my head shrinker was so keen on me getting a job last year. Between work, camping trips and all round activity, I barely got a chance to scratch my arse let alone think about the whole bipolar thing. Turns out sometimes what shrinks say is not complete and utter bullshit.
Problem being, when life gets busy you tend to loose your mindfulness. By the time I had beavered my way through my hectic May/June schedule, it turned out I was a little down and hadn't even noticed. Apparently being busy is great for your mental health. That is of course, until the busy dries up and you are left sleeping for 14 hours a day, eating far too much junk food and being generally miserable.
I learn the most from falling. The other day I had two such falls and learnt two important lessons. Number one, do not attempt to drive to work before fully removing that cursed winter frost from your windscreen. Number two, there are 10mm in a cm not 100 and if you try to tell one of your students otherwise, it may take a while to recover. Kids can be so cruel. Still, I will never make either mistake again. The first being outright dangerous and the second just plain stupid.
In the same way, I learnt from having such a plate full for those few months. The lesson is that no matter how busy I get, I still need to find the time to be mindful of my mood. It may not sound like much to those of you that aren't 'mentally interesting' but when you are prone to extreme mood states, knowing where ones head is at becomes pretty important.
Winter is my most hated season. Especially in this miserable little backwater. I am too uncoordinated for all those cool winter type things like snowboarding, ice skating and making snow angels. I am also kind of grossed out by the steam that comes off the ground when you go out for a whiz in sub zero. Fortunately, the days have started getting longer and the apparently dangerous morning frost on my windscreen is getting thinner. Bring on the Spring I say and may it be a very long Summer.
Sadly I cannot bore you any more for I must go and study some maths. I did however find this video of amusing animals for your enjoyment. Let's face it, if you took away all the porn, animals doing amusing things for our entertainment would be all that was left.
Stay awesome!
Saturday, 12 May 2012
Mother's Day
I love my Mum, but I don't do Mother's Day. We have come to an arrangement.
Now, let me explain. For some reason, be it the alignment of the stars, the change in seasons or insert clever anecdote here, this time of year hates on crazy people like me. This is the first Mother's Day in six years that I have not been either too depressed to drag myself out of bed or too manic to tell the difference between my mother and a large pineapple.
The worst Mother's Day we've had together was in 2008. It involved a nine hour car trip from Victoria and me at my most manic. I was hospitalised the very next day. The old man was driving (he is very old school in that respect, driving is the job of a man). I was on the back seat obsessed with my iPod, playing certain songs over and over again at a volume which Im surprised hasn't done permanent damage to my hearing. Over the course of this nine hour Mother's Day journey, my darling mummy would have looked over her seat to check on me over a hundred times. Completely powerless to do anything but concerned about me so much that on her special day I was probably the only thing she thought about.
I tend to burn people out. I have a few good friends that somehow put up with me and I hope they stick around. Even if they try though, they will never view my bipolar as intimately or with as much compassion as my mother does.
She deals with the fallout of my manias. She has seen me lie in bed for weeks on end. She knows me at my worst and at my best. While she hasn't been the most helpful to my mental wellbeing at times, she has given more than her best to understand and do whatever she possibly can to ensure I stay in the world of the living. My mother is very stubborn as far as I am concerned. She brought me in to the world all those years ago and has spent the rest of my 21 years making sure I stay in it.
At this point, I wish I could climb the moral mountain and tell you all that every day should be Mother's Day. That we should love and respect our mothers every day of the year. I only wish it were that simple. When you have a mental illness like bipolar, you never know from one day to the next how capable you will be of loving and supporting those around you.
Mental illness is in it's very nature selfish. You try pretending you are Yaweh for a day and then tell me it is anything but self-centred. Those around you feel it most and I know this because I have experienced the other side of the asylum. I attribute the fact that I am still around to rant at you mostly to my family but particularly my mummy.
My mother is caring and understanding when no one else is. I can have a screaming match with her one minute, shortly after discover I need help with something and know I can still turn to her. She is the most selfless person I know and will ever know. All she asks of me in return is that I follow my dreams, stay true to myself and have a conversation with her once in a while. She cares. Not just for me but for every person that is lucky enough to know her. My role models aren't famous people. They are people like my mum that do what they do day in, day out without recognition because it is just the person that they are. She is a gold standard. Someone whoose blood I am very proud to have flowing through my veins.
I urge you all to love, respect and appreciate your mother's. Be it on Mother's Day or another random point in the year of your choosing. When the appocalypse is upon me, be it zombie or other wise, when things are just FUBAR, there is only one on this earth that gives me a 100% guarantee that they will be in my corner of the proverbial ring. I am just hoping when mania strikes again, I am sound of mind enough to know the difference between my mother and a large pineapple.
Happy Mother's Day to all you amazing mummies out there but particularly mine. When the day comes that I have to put you in a home, I will make sure it is a nice one.
With all my love and never enough gratitude,
Your mentally unstable Son.
Stay awesome.
Now, let me explain. For some reason, be it the alignment of the stars, the change in seasons or insert clever anecdote here, this time of year hates on crazy people like me. This is the first Mother's Day in six years that I have not been either too depressed to drag myself out of bed or too manic to tell the difference between my mother and a large pineapple.
The worst Mother's Day we've had together was in 2008. It involved a nine hour car trip from Victoria and me at my most manic. I was hospitalised the very next day. The old man was driving (he is very old school in that respect, driving is the job of a man). I was on the back seat obsessed with my iPod, playing certain songs over and over again at a volume which Im surprised hasn't done permanent damage to my hearing. Over the course of this nine hour Mother's Day journey, my darling mummy would have looked over her seat to check on me over a hundred times. Completely powerless to do anything but concerned about me so much that on her special day I was probably the only thing she thought about.
I tend to burn people out. I have a few good friends that somehow put up with me and I hope they stick around. Even if they try though, they will never view my bipolar as intimately or with as much compassion as my mother does.
She deals with the fallout of my manias. She has seen me lie in bed for weeks on end. She knows me at my worst and at my best. While she hasn't been the most helpful to my mental wellbeing at times, she has given more than her best to understand and do whatever she possibly can to ensure I stay in the world of the living. My mother is very stubborn as far as I am concerned. She brought me in to the world all those years ago and has spent the rest of my 21 years making sure I stay in it.
At this point, I wish I could climb the moral mountain and tell you all that every day should be Mother's Day. That we should love and respect our mothers every day of the year. I only wish it were that simple. When you have a mental illness like bipolar, you never know from one day to the next how capable you will be of loving and supporting those around you.
Mental illness is in it's very nature selfish. You try pretending you are Yaweh for a day and then tell me it is anything but self-centred. Those around you feel it most and I know this because I have experienced the other side of the asylum. I attribute the fact that I am still around to rant at you mostly to my family but particularly my mummy.
My mother is caring and understanding when no one else is. I can have a screaming match with her one minute, shortly after discover I need help with something and know I can still turn to her. She is the most selfless person I know and will ever know. All she asks of me in return is that I follow my dreams, stay true to myself and have a conversation with her once in a while. She cares. Not just for me but for every person that is lucky enough to know her. My role models aren't famous people. They are people like my mum that do what they do day in, day out without recognition because it is just the person that they are. She is a gold standard. Someone whoose blood I am very proud to have flowing through my veins.
I urge you all to love, respect and appreciate your mother's. Be it on Mother's Day or another random point in the year of your choosing. When the appocalypse is upon me, be it zombie or other wise, when things are just FUBAR, there is only one on this earth that gives me a 100% guarantee that they will be in my corner of the proverbial ring. I am just hoping when mania strikes again, I am sound of mind enough to know the difference between my mother and a large pineapple.
Happy Mother's Day to all you amazing mummies out there but particularly mine. When the day comes that I have to put you in a home, I will make sure it is a nice one.
With all my love and never enough gratitude,
Your mentally unstable Son.
Stay awesome.
Monday, 7 May 2012
Max Power
Shocker! I was in one of my favourite establishments for the purveyance of my beloved amber fluid the other night. It was here that I had a rather interesting yet somewhat puzzling conversation with a friend of mine.
You see he, like me he finds it somewhat problematic containing his mood within any sort of completely functional range. It was in between the gulps of fermented beverage and the usual shit talking he shared with me a fun fact. A fun fact which at first, I could not quite comprehend.
The title of this blog refers to where I like my brain to be, right of the center. A little bit on the high side and going fast enough so that if you ever get me to be quiet, you might just hear the whizzing sound it's fans make. My friend, lets call him 'Max Power' as my hair is super dry at the moment feels completely the opposite. To Max, being a little left of center, that slight blue twang is what sees him at his most functional.
At first I was baffled by this statement. To me it seemed a conflict of interest that Max could derive enjoyment from being slightly depressed. As the conversation evolved, I gained understanding and it gained the thought-provoke attack.With bipolar, while it is never black and white we really do get the best of everything. There are both positive and negative elements to all the mood states; high, low and mixed.
The highs give us a taste of invulnerability, confidence, creativity and the incredibly fun ability to embrace ones inner 5 year old. I would continue but I do not want to make you mentally sound types jealous. In short, imagine the best you've ever felt be it drug induced or else ways and imagine doing it for months on end, without the drug or whatever else it is that floats your boat. For me, the highs come with an incredible productivity. I sleep less, do more, think harder, better, faster and stronger.
To the lows, as Max put it, they give us poise. You get the chance to sit back and reflect with an incredible thoughtfulness that comes with thinking more inwardly. While the productivity takes a knife to the eyeball, chances are what you write and or do is more profound. You feel things and take in things that the high you usually has fly right past him.The brain fans slow their pace, more of a calming breeze than a gusty head wind (terrible pun, deal with it!).
I've been contemplating why I like to be on the right side of the spectrum. I discovered that there are negatives to both sides of the tiny little fence in the middle I never quite manage to sit on.
Depression is not all that fun for me. It is something I try and avoid just like that strange red headed midget I went to school with.... and of course chihuahuas. Being on the right means that if you stumble a little, you still maintain a tight grasp on life. I find it much harder to claw my way back to the world of the living when I am depressed than employing a sleep parachute to drop back down into reality.
On the other hand at the unrelenting ends of the bipolar rainbow, I would rather be severely depressed than ludicrously manic. With depression, I am still in control of my actions. I don't believe taking my own life is an option for me. I have been to the edge of the cliff and decided it is just a bit too far to jump. Plus, I am a big wuss.
With a mania, I am completely out of control. I could spend thousands of dollars on rubber chickens, think that they can make me fly and proceed to jump off the Empire State Building. Perhaps my delusions involve me becoming a martyr. I decide I need to save the sharks from the dolphins, go swimming in the ocean cleverly disguised as a whale to kill those pesky buggers in cold blood and then provoke some Japanese whalers into shooting me with a harpoon gun.
I would love to wrap this post up with a suitably profound conclusion containing shiny and elaborate word play. If however you have made it to the end of this rather intense bit of word filled bile, I apologise that this monologue does not have a neater ending. Obviously my thoughts on Max Power's fun fact require more time down the pub to develop. I will wait till I have my next low and perhaps let you know how it pans out.
I sincerely hope you all got the reference. In case you didn't or you just love yellow people with eight fingers, another gem from the you of tubes. Just strap yourself in and feel the G's!
Stay right of the center or, if you prefer, to the left. I personally, kind of sort of maybe think that possibly I know where I want to be.
Stay Awesome.
You see he, like me he finds it somewhat problematic containing his mood within any sort of completely functional range. It was in between the gulps of fermented beverage and the usual shit talking he shared with me a fun fact. A fun fact which at first, I could not quite comprehend.
The title of this blog refers to where I like my brain to be, right of the center. A little bit on the high side and going fast enough so that if you ever get me to be quiet, you might just hear the whizzing sound it's fans make. My friend, lets call him 'Max Power' as my hair is super dry at the moment feels completely the opposite. To Max, being a little left of center, that slight blue twang is what sees him at his most functional.
At first I was baffled by this statement. To me it seemed a conflict of interest that Max could derive enjoyment from being slightly depressed. As the conversation evolved, I gained understanding and it gained the thought-provoke attack.With bipolar, while it is never black and white we really do get the best of everything. There are both positive and negative elements to all the mood states; high, low and mixed.
The highs give us a taste of invulnerability, confidence, creativity and the incredibly fun ability to embrace ones inner 5 year old. I would continue but I do not want to make you mentally sound types jealous. In short, imagine the best you've ever felt be it drug induced or else ways and imagine doing it for months on end, without the drug or whatever else it is that floats your boat. For me, the highs come with an incredible productivity. I sleep less, do more, think harder, better, faster and stronger.
To the lows, as Max put it, they give us poise. You get the chance to sit back and reflect with an incredible thoughtfulness that comes with thinking more inwardly. While the productivity takes a knife to the eyeball, chances are what you write and or do is more profound. You feel things and take in things that the high you usually has fly right past him.The brain fans slow their pace, more of a calming breeze than a gusty head wind (terrible pun, deal with it!).
I've been contemplating why I like to be on the right side of the spectrum. I discovered that there are negatives to both sides of the tiny little fence in the middle I never quite manage to sit on.
Depression is not all that fun for me. It is something I try and avoid just like that strange red headed midget I went to school with.... and of course chihuahuas. Being on the right means that if you stumble a little, you still maintain a tight grasp on life. I find it much harder to claw my way back to the world of the living when I am depressed than employing a sleep parachute to drop back down into reality.
On the other hand at the unrelenting ends of the bipolar rainbow, I would rather be severely depressed than ludicrously manic. With depression, I am still in control of my actions. I don't believe taking my own life is an option for me. I have been to the edge of the cliff and decided it is just a bit too far to jump. Plus, I am a big wuss.
With a mania, I am completely out of control. I could spend thousands of dollars on rubber chickens, think that they can make me fly and proceed to jump off the Empire State Building. Perhaps my delusions involve me becoming a martyr. I decide I need to save the sharks from the dolphins, go swimming in the ocean cleverly disguised as a whale to kill those pesky buggers in cold blood and then provoke some Japanese whalers into shooting me with a harpoon gun.
I would love to wrap this post up with a suitably profound conclusion containing shiny and elaborate word play. If however you have made it to the end of this rather intense bit of word filled bile, I apologise that this monologue does not have a neater ending. Obviously my thoughts on Max Power's fun fact require more time down the pub to develop. I will wait till I have my next low and perhaps let you know how it pans out.
I sincerely hope you all got the reference. In case you didn't or you just love yellow people with eight fingers, another gem from the you of tubes. Just strap yourself in and feel the G's!
Stay right of the center or, if you prefer, to the left. I personally, kind of sort of maybe think that possibly I know where I want to be.
Stay Awesome.
Monday, 19 March 2012
Boring Desk, Amusing Animals
Hello lovelies. My sincerest apologies for taking so long between posts. It has just occurred to me that my life has become progressively more boring since the last time I spewed my thoughts in to blog form. I can't promise you that this post will be nearly as entertaining as my previous attempts however, I will do my best to find a video of some animals doing mildly amusing things and tack it on to the end to make up for it.
Until this weekend I had given up my nicotine addiction for a far more healthier habit of oxygen and exercise. Unfortunately the stresses of my first job in over twelve months coupled with my love of all things alcoholic have recently sent me in to remission. It is an excuse, but I am good at making them and as always I have a quote to back it up.
The most exciting part is that I have a desk. I have never had a desk before. It is not a big one, nor is it terribly fancy and I have to share it. None the less, it is a desk.
While I appreciate the school affording me such a provision, I don't plan on using it too much. Number one, given the nature of my role I highly doubt I will find much time to actually sit at it. Number two the desk comes with one of those cool swivelly chairs which would be an endless source of amusing procrastination for me. Finally, if I wanted to sit at a desk I would of got a far better paying desk job as a public servant with the Department of Acronym.
They say all good things come to an end. Unfortunately I think my run of being right of the center finally has. It was fun while it lasted. I got a little too high at one stage and spilt a beer at the pub, not because I was drunk but because my brain had put the beer down long before my arm had finished completing the task. The early stages of mania are interesting indeed. I thought it was hilarious but I don't think the people I was with appreciated my mood quite so much. Still, it is the price you pay for associating with a crazy. I don't know how I've managed to procure friends with such incredible tolerance.
Anyhow, here I am, back to my boring old self, contemplating forcing myself to sleep because I want to be up at 6am to get in a run before work. Still being at a normal mood state isn't so bad, I hear there are some poor souls that spend most of their life in such a way.
At least when I am like this I can still enjoy videos of animals doing mildly amusing things.
Stay awesome.
Until this weekend I had given up my nicotine addiction for a far more healthier habit of oxygen and exercise. Unfortunately the stresses of my first job in over twelve months coupled with my love of all things alcoholic have recently sent me in to remission. It is an excuse, but I am good at making them and as always I have a quote to back it up.
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal, what matters is the courage to continue." - Winston ChurchillYes, it is true. After over twelve months of blissful unemployment I once again find myself contributing to society. I am now working four days a week in a couple of different schools helping kids with varying disabilities learn shit. Before you think it yes, I can see the irony of a head case like me doing this sort of work.
The most exciting part is that I have a desk. I have never had a desk before. It is not a big one, nor is it terribly fancy and I have to share it. None the less, it is a desk.
While I appreciate the school affording me such a provision, I don't plan on using it too much. Number one, given the nature of my role I highly doubt I will find much time to actually sit at it. Number two the desk comes with one of those cool swivelly chairs which would be an endless source of amusing procrastination for me. Finally, if I wanted to sit at a desk I would of got a far better paying desk job as a public servant with the Department of Acronym.
They say all good things come to an end. Unfortunately I think my run of being right of the center finally has. It was fun while it lasted. I got a little too high at one stage and spilt a beer at the pub, not because I was drunk but because my brain had put the beer down long before my arm had finished completing the task. The early stages of mania are interesting indeed. I thought it was hilarious but I don't think the people I was with appreciated my mood quite so much. Still, it is the price you pay for associating with a crazy. I don't know how I've managed to procure friends with such incredible tolerance.
Anyhow, here I am, back to my boring old self, contemplating forcing myself to sleep because I want to be up at 6am to get in a run before work. Still being at a normal mood state isn't so bad, I hear there are some poor souls that spend most of their life in such a way.
At least when I am like this I can still enjoy videos of animals doing mildly amusing things.
Stay awesome.
Friday, 17 February 2012
Puppies, Rainbows and Unicorns
I mentioned in my first post Introduction: To Blog or not to Blog that this blog will not just be about bipolar but may also contain puppies, rainbows and unicorns. Well, I am a man of my word and it is your lucky day because I recently found myself with an excuse to talk about all three.
I was at a 21st recently and the theme was rainbows, unicorns and the yellow brick road. Having arrived fashionably late, as is normal for me if I even show up at all. I looked around at all the guests in their ridiculous apparel and came to the sudden realisation that I was one of the few people I actually knew at the party. There I was in an unfamiliar place, wearing amazingly rainbow clothes, with strange unicorn looking people prancing all around me, wondering who the hell I was going to talk to.
Fortunately, I was a bit right of the center that night and so it wasn't long before I was pretending to be interested in learning people's names and conversing with strangers about the weather and that local sporting team. I am not naturally adept in social situations, it requires a certain amount of effort on my part that can be particularly hard to summon, especially when I am a bit down. By the time I was on my fourth beer, the urge to fight a unicorn out of boredom had subsided, I drank some beer from my shoe (apparently it is my new party trick) and discussed with a random stranger the benefits of various types of garden fertiliser. At some point in the night a 50 litre keg of ginger beer in a wheelie bin appeared and my memory of events afterwards whilst not entirely gone become somewhat blurred.
Earlier on, I met the birthday girl's new puppy who I must say is absolutely gorgeous. Having become a bit of a hippy in recent years, I don't care too much for possessions. At my 21st I requested that people donate money to Sane Australia rather than buy me some shiny thing I would not use or a token bottle of booze which technically I am not supposed to drink. I told my rentals they could either do the same or get me a puppy. Before you think it, yes that is emotional black mail and I am a terrible human being.
Short story long, I got my puppy! Her name is Dip and she is a 10 month old (almost all growed up) ACD/Mastiff and In the 6 months I have known her she has rapidly super glued her position as my best friend. Whilst Dip was not around for the shit storm that has been my life for the past 5 years, I know if she were, it would of been made all the more bearable.
Animals have this incredible intuition which puts my fairly sharp human one to shame. I know when I'm starting to get a little depressed because the cat will start avoiding me, she always knows before I do. Dip who is still a youngen can already tell when I am upset. At these times, rather than exhibiting her usual behaviour of jumping all over me and trying to get me to play tug-of-war, she will come and sit quietly by my side in an uncharacteristic display of self-control.
Being responsible for another living thing while sometimes presenting a challenge for someone like me, is by no means a chore. I will admit, sometimes Dip and I skip breakfast and a lot of the time we skip our walk but I know she understands that I am doing the best I can with the cards I have been dealt.
I wish that the world was fill filled with rainbows, unicorns, puppies and that we could all end up living happily ever after in the magical place George Orwell refers to as sugar candy mountain. Sadly, idealism never quite matches up with reality. We have to rely on the little things like spending time with man's best friend to give us that little extra unquantifiable something that helps to make life worth living.
Whether it be a a unicorn, an old person, elephant, fly or a puppy I am of the firm belief that everyone should have a pet. Call it an investment in your sanity because at some point in life it is nice to have the kind of unconditional love that only animals can provide.
Now, I would love to tell you more about puppies, rainbows and unicorns hell I could probably write a novel. Today however is one of the few beautiful days we have had all summer in this miserable place and I intend on making the most of what is left of it. If you have not been paying attention while reading this, the video below pretty much sums up this post in a bean pod.
Stay right of the center and keep on doing what you do. If you encounter a unicorn in your travels, be sure to talk to it about the weather and that local sporting team because unicorns have feelings too.
Stay Awesome.
I was at a 21st recently and the theme was rainbows, unicorns and the yellow brick road. Having arrived fashionably late, as is normal for me if I even show up at all. I looked around at all the guests in their ridiculous apparel and came to the sudden realisation that I was one of the few people I actually knew at the party. There I was in an unfamiliar place, wearing amazingly rainbow clothes, with strange unicorn looking people prancing all around me, wondering who the hell I was going to talk to.
Fortunately, I was a bit right of the center that night and so it wasn't long before I was pretending to be interested in learning people's names and conversing with strangers about the weather and that local sporting team. I am not naturally adept in social situations, it requires a certain amount of effort on my part that can be particularly hard to summon, especially when I am a bit down. By the time I was on my fourth beer, the urge to fight a unicorn out of boredom had subsided, I drank some beer from my shoe (apparently it is my new party trick) and discussed with a random stranger the benefits of various types of garden fertiliser. At some point in the night a 50 litre keg of ginger beer in a wheelie bin appeared and my memory of events afterwards whilst not entirely gone become somewhat blurred.
Earlier on, I met the birthday girl's new puppy who I must say is absolutely gorgeous. Having become a bit of a hippy in recent years, I don't care too much for possessions. At my 21st I requested that people donate money to Sane Australia rather than buy me some shiny thing I would not use or a token bottle of booze which technically I am not supposed to drink. I told my rentals they could either do the same or get me a puppy. Before you think it, yes that is emotional black mail and I am a terrible human being.
Short story long, I got my puppy! Her name is Dip and she is a 10 month old (almost all growed up) ACD/Mastiff and In the 6 months I have known her she has rapidly super glued her position as my best friend. Whilst Dip was not around for the shit storm that has been my life for the past 5 years, I know if she were, it would of been made all the more bearable.
Animals have this incredible intuition which puts my fairly sharp human one to shame. I know when I'm starting to get a little depressed because the cat will start avoiding me, she always knows before I do. Dip who is still a youngen can already tell when I am upset. At these times, rather than exhibiting her usual behaviour of jumping all over me and trying to get me to play tug-of-war, she will come and sit quietly by my side in an uncharacteristic display of self-control.
Being responsible for another living thing while sometimes presenting a challenge for someone like me, is by no means a chore. I will admit, sometimes Dip and I skip breakfast and a lot of the time we skip our walk but I know she understands that I am doing the best I can with the cards I have been dealt.
I wish that the world was fill filled with rainbows, unicorns, puppies and that we could all end up living happily ever after in the magical place George Orwell refers to as sugar candy mountain. Sadly, idealism never quite matches up with reality. We have to rely on the little things like spending time with man's best friend to give us that little extra unquantifiable something that helps to make life worth living.
Whether it be a a unicorn, an old person, elephant, fly or a puppy I am of the firm belief that everyone should have a pet. Call it an investment in your sanity because at some point in life it is nice to have the kind of unconditional love that only animals can provide.
Now, I would love to tell you more about puppies, rainbows and unicorns hell I could probably write a novel. Today however is one of the few beautiful days we have had all summer in this miserable place and I intend on making the most of what is left of it. If you have not been paying attention while reading this, the video below pretty much sums up this post in a bean pod.
Stay right of the center and keep on doing what you do. If you encounter a unicorn in your travels, be sure to talk to it about the weather and that local sporting team because unicorns have feelings too.
Stay Awesome.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Drinking beer from a shoe
Hello lovelies. To begin where I recently ended a night. As the title of this post suggests I was kicked out of a pub for drinking beer out of a shoe. I can confirm to you that it is just as awesome as it sounds. I learnt a few things from this adventure. Firstly, the beer quality is not diminished if you drink it fast enough however, the smell is a little bit off putting. Number two the staff of the local establishments in my pseudo home town of Canberra do not have a sense of humour about such things (this is a generalisation from only a small sample group, further research is required). Number three and perhaps most important is that doing stupid things is not only fun but also educational.
Granted, I probably knew that last lesson already but a refresher course every once in a while doesn't hurt. I have done a lot of stupid shit in my lifetime. From passing out in all sorts of weird and unusual places, stealing things that are completely useless to me (if you lost a few pot plants from your front garden a few years ago that was probably me) and driving far too fast on dirt roads in a front wheel drive car. Just to name a few, without incriminating myself too much but all of these things add up to the collective pool of wisdom contained in my brain.
I often say to people when trying to describe a mania that in my case it is just like passing out. Believe me when I tell you that I have had a lot of experience at both. You kill enough brain cells so that all you can remember are flashes of the night before and you piece the rest together through eye whiteness accounts and whatever evidence you have collected along the way. With my manias this feeling of memory loss covers weeks at a time. As an example I vaguely remember during one mania saying '5-5-5-5-5'. Apparently, it is all I said for three days. Every question I was asked even simple ones like: 'what is your name?' I would reply: '5-5-5-5-5'. I remember vividly staring at some graffiti that said 'the end is nigh' for 6 hours but if you asked me why I did so, I couldn't tell you if I wanted to.
I find these stories about mania hilarious, as should you. A sense of humour about such things is vital to my well being. It is like that one stoner you know and all the ridiculous things he or she says when high; generally about melting in to couches and slaying dragons with marshmallows. I tend to collect these stories, not only from myself but from others as well and perhaps you will hear some more further down the line.
For now though after that short detour, back to doing stupid shit. One of my favourite quotes at the moment comes from the song 'Satelite' by one of my favourite bands, Rise Against:
I have learnt far too often in my 21 years that life is fragile, opportunities only present themselves once and if you get kicked out of a pub you probably deserved it. It is a cliche but there's no point being in the moment if you're not going to live in it. I'll think about the past when I'm old and as to the future well, that's just a little bit too boring for me. I figure as long as I have a roof over my head, some half decent scotch and a bit of food to eat then I am doing okay.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some beer to drink and a variety of shoes to drink it from. I will let you know the best combination if you want to try it for yourself. The sandal should be interesting.
Stay Awesome.
Granted, I probably knew that last lesson already but a refresher course every once in a while doesn't hurt. I have done a lot of stupid shit in my lifetime. From passing out in all sorts of weird and unusual places, stealing things that are completely useless to me (if you lost a few pot plants from your front garden a few years ago that was probably me) and driving far too fast on dirt roads in a front wheel drive car. Just to name a few, without incriminating myself too much but all of these things add up to the collective pool of wisdom contained in my brain.
I often say to people when trying to describe a mania that in my case it is just like passing out. Believe me when I tell you that I have had a lot of experience at both. You kill enough brain cells so that all you can remember are flashes of the night before and you piece the rest together through eye whiteness accounts and whatever evidence you have collected along the way. With my manias this feeling of memory loss covers weeks at a time. As an example I vaguely remember during one mania saying '5-5-5-5-5'. Apparently, it is all I said for three days. Every question I was asked even simple ones like: 'what is your name?' I would reply: '5-5-5-5-5'. I remember vividly staring at some graffiti that said 'the end is nigh' for 6 hours but if you asked me why I did so, I couldn't tell you if I wanted to.
I find these stories about mania hilarious, as should you. A sense of humour about such things is vital to my well being. It is like that one stoner you know and all the ridiculous things he or she says when high; generally about melting in to couches and slaying dragons with marshmallows. I tend to collect these stories, not only from myself but from others as well and perhaps you will hear some more further down the line.
For now though after that short detour, back to doing stupid shit. One of my favourite quotes at the moment comes from the song 'Satelite' by one of my favourite bands, Rise Against:
"You can't feel the heat until you hold your hand over the flameIt is by doing stupid things that we work out where our limits are. From my father I have developed two guiding principles to any sort of moment like this in my life. Number one, was it fun? For what is life if not something to be enjoyed. Number two, did you learn something from it? Because if we don't learn from our experiences then what is the point of existing. On drinking beer from a shoe, obviously it was fun and yes, in a strange way I am smarter for doing it.
You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays
You won't know your worth now, son, until you take a hitAnd you won't find the beat until you lose yourself in it"
I have learnt far too often in my 21 years that life is fragile, opportunities only present themselves once and if you get kicked out of a pub you probably deserved it. It is a cliche but there's no point being in the moment if you're not going to live in it. I'll think about the past when I'm old and as to the future well, that's just a little bit too boring for me. I figure as long as I have a roof over my head, some half decent scotch and a bit of food to eat then I am doing okay.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some beer to drink and a variety of shoes to drink it from. I will let you know the best combination if you want to try it for yourself. The sandal should be interesting.
Stay Awesome.
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