Made me laugh

Just something silly that brought a moment of joy.

I laughed today

Finally doing something about too much sleep and depression. While in Mexico, I got up at dawn every day. It was a lot easier to get up early when I returned to Jackson Hole. I am backsliding a little but still up before ten.

I keep waiting for some chat or email to get me out of my funk. Emily (daughter 2) sent me an email with images of two pairs of glasses, asking my opinion on which she should buy.

I sent back a little drawing around one of the pairs of glasses. It made me laugh. I would post the image but I am at the wrong computer. WTF.

Reasons to live

Suicide ideation has always been my main problem. I had an epiphany the other day. I am part of a family, and right now, in the oldest generation, hence, am counted upon to keep up my end of the "Family" commitment. I simply cannot commit suicide as I am needed to maintain this families' balance. So there. Think of a table with four legs, suddenly losing one. The other observation is that I just turned 60 and am still here.

Tiny book, big help

In the arena of self-help and cognitive therapy this is the story of the tiny book. I found this tiny notebook in the street just after a light rain. It is 2 x 3.5 inches—business card size. For a long time it sat on my desk, unopened. Then one day, Little Red Riding Hood....oops, wrong story. Anyway, I started writing insights when they occurred to me. I filled the book after a while and started on the backs of the filled pages. When things are tough, or even when they aren't I go back to the tiny book for some insight. The randomness of just opening it now and then adds to the therapeutic effect. It has 50 pages or so, so there is variety as I thumb through it. Also, having entries at different times, with varying moods, also enhances the effectiveness. If things are really dark, I can read the whole thing.

Rapid Cycling, and not on a bike

I seem to be having what might be instant cycles. Laughing then weeping. Laughing at YouTube of people getting hit with soccer balls, then crying at the pain and violence. Something about all the ones I lost coming together in my mind at once. Even my '74 BMW motorcycle which I know rationally, is an inanimate object and hence does not feel betrayed by my lousy mechanical work.

Back in the blogosphere

Shouting in a vacuum here. At least my graphic design blog has two followers. It's not like my bipolar experiences are any more precious than anyone else's. That is a vanity I think many of us share—that we are the ones in the most pain, with the most empathy, hence the most need-to-be-read thoughts. I really thought maybe mine would get approached for a book deal.

There is a bipolar blog out there somewhere, I used to follow, that has been around a long time. The blogger's antics and experiences, love life and sex life—the fodder for his rants—have evidently been considered for a sitcom, or dramacom. There was also mention of a book deal in the offing.

For your Google® searching curiosity two interesting stories are making the rounds. First, the Scientologists want ECT banned. They deny the existence of mental illness, chemical imbalances in the brain, schizophrenia and other diagnosed mental afflictions.

Another story floating around the fringe is a move to make prayer a reimbursable medical expense.

These are presented here without comment.

And regarding book deals, I met a guy who wrote a NY Times, "Notable book of the year," who was applying for a day-job. Being an author is a very tough way to make a living. I have a friend who parlayed writing National Park guides into a publishing career. He was just thinking of purchasing a small plane to commute back and forth from San Francisco to Jackson, WY.

With so many things, in order to make a small fortune at something, start with a large fortune.

Slogging through the days

Wonder why I bother correcting typos. Trying to go off one of four meds—trileptal—to induce some mania. Doc can't really help any more. If current mix is working, stay with it, etc. Too fucking depressed, angry. Anxiety leading up to party for my daughter's marriage—meet the in-laws thing. No sympathy from Liz. She's my only outside contact for this. I am practicing suicide notes.