7/25/10

Han

I'm feeling down right now, so I'll let a bit out here.

Living solo is becoming depressing. I've been really proud of myself for focusing on work and keeping a schedule. It's just that I'm rarely free, prefer to save money and am becoming a deal more serious about everything. This is a critical point in my life, and the pressure's killing me. I need to realize that adulthood has a sense of humor.

I was really looking forward to going to the event tonight. We haven't seen each other for at least 4 years, and this familiarity is reminding me that I've missed her a lot. There're 4 years to catch up on. Plus, I have a lot that I want to tell her.
I hope for happy material.

7/17/10

Some preservatives

Today was another great solo day. I got a load of sleep and freed up more space for some new music. I'm really into Michael Franti and Spearhead right now. Not only does the stuff go great with toking, but it also sends me messages. Franti speaks out about a lot of issues that I also feel strongly about; most commonly addressing the distress of today's society and the power hungry America. Stuff gives me hope.

I went to Goodwill in Pearl City earlier today and went on a $20 spree. I walked out of there with 2 vinyls, both movies (not soundtracks): Batman Forever for my brother and Terminator 2 for my dad. Next is a metal angel-shaped candy dish for my grandmother. She collects everything angel-related; well, you just need to see her house. My main mission on visiting these stores is to dig up and collect tossed-out art. I found a wine glass that had been painted over with an ocean with sea creatures. It looks like a well-done elementary school project, and that's a compliment. Finally, my favorite, an already framed pastel drawing of a rose. Man, it's so nice and in the simplest fashion. I wish all of these artists signed their work though.
I like to think that I'm preserving these parts of those people.

I'd like to be preserved by someone too.


7/15/10

Kingdom Crumble

I take a lot of things too leisurely and I take a lot of things too seriously.

My criticalness brings down moods. I think that I often obscure what I feel is principle and it shows up as negativity. I'm actually a very positive person and have become as outspoken as I am because I'm developed a higher level of confidence in myself. Sometimes I feel that I'm coming off as arrogant, and then usually overtone it by being too nonchalant. It's just that I've always prided myself on being an open-minded individual and the absence of that might make me less of what I like.

I guess there's always that struggle to find a place in the world, huh?
I think that we humans are always drawn to power. Is 'pleasure' power? Seems so to me. So then not everyone has power. We regulate the amount of power we desire by choosing (and vice-versa) fitting lifestyles - our codes of conduct. I used 'choosing' rather than 'creating' because few people, if any, can establish a new one within this Democratic society. It takes the kingdom to crumble before such things may manifest.

7/3/10

Refresh

I haven't posted photos in a long time.It's partly because I've been getting rolls developed without the bank for the prints. I think there are 4 sets still waiting for me at Longs!
Also, I found out I forgot to pick up one set from Seattle. Some of my favorite memories happened to be enclosed.














































On a side note, the publishing format on here is really lame. I'm moving over to Tumblr when I have time.

7/1/10

100

As the title vaguely, if it all suggests, this is my one-hundredth Blogger entry. A lot has happened since I opened this blog, and upon reflecting on the last year and nearly a half, I've learned a lot more about myself. I stated that this blog is just as much for me as it is for the, I guess you could call them my "targeted readers", but I've been very vague when touching on the touchy, and have not written up to my self-assigned commission. Although some of you may not be able to relate to the fullest, I know that you can find yourself in me if you try to. I don't want us to be alone.

Inspired by Boss, may she rest in peace.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in June of 2009.
I'd always believed that there was something out of the ordinary about me. I think that thought crosses everyone at some point, and I think we all eventually realize what that something is.

Growing up, I never held any consistent friendships and wasn't sociable. I preferred being alone, and I was not at all happy about it. Depression isn't as much sadness as it is a feeling of helplessness. It's a consistent numbness, like that drone you hear over an empty phone line. You know, you've got a connection, but there's no one there. It's just noise. But you're thankful to be connected at all.

Mania didn't become a major issue for me until high school. I'd always had temper flares as an adolescent, but that could've been attributed to my being so spoiled. I think the anger laid low because I didn't care about anything enough to lose it over. When high school hit, I got a girlfriend and allowed myself to be repeatedly violated. I'm not saying I wasn't without fault. I just didn't know how to cope with it all. It was during the course of my next relationship that my manic depression began hurting others. Being so much in love was, of course, amazingly positively influential, but the occasional feeling of lack-of was equally dangerous. I'm ashamed to admit that I did not feel any guilt over how I ended our relationship. Later, we reconnected and recollected and I really hated myself for a while after. I guess I've become another sort of person because of what I did. "Better", I hope.

I diagnosed myself before my psychiatrist did. It was the realization I came to after a series of intensely self-induced events spanning its own four seasons. In the beginning, I was already a social drinker, occasional toker and chain cigarette smoker. In a cliche gateway fashion, I found my way into hard drugs and respectively hard places. Nothing about it was real. Maybe what I do remember didn't even happen. Yeah, it was all really amazing at first, but I let myself get carried away. I just couldn't handle. You see, addiction is not as hazardous in its persistence as it is in its insatiability. I felt like crap when I was downing, so I'd turn to more of what set me up for the drop in the first place (I set myself up, I mean to say), and life would seem real again. I didn't see most of my friends during this period. You're probably one of them. I thought myself a real ghost at times, and that later became an apparently appropriate analogy. I could have died back there.

I found myself in another's autobiography. Nic and I went through different degrees of similar episodes throughout our lives, and I became somewhat resolved. It wasn't what we experienced, but how we did. Among the determinations of others, Nic was diagnosed as being bipolar. As underlying as this point was made (the book mostly followed his drug abuse), I was able to collect what would change the course of the rest of my life. I researched a great deal and decided to see a psychiatrist.

Over the course of my treatment, I've accumulated five different prescriptions. Two of them are dailies and three situational. I hate it so much that I often forget to take them. It's so difficult to motivate myself back to the point at which I know I need the medicine to raise me back to that point (I had to reread that many times). I'm getting better at it though. Unfortunately, there is no cure for manic depression. I'll be taking medication every day for the rest of my life. I will always be living this. Fortunately, I'm getting better at it.


6/12/10

It doesn't take much effort

As much as I've been trying to regulate my funds, I have myself here in a financial slump. I didn't expect that being in between jobs, if only for a week, would pin me down so flat.

$10 in my wallet.
$55 in my checking.
$00 in my savings.
$33 in a check from Banana, for my training hours.
5 gallons of gas in my car
8 cigarettes

That's what I have to last me until the end of the week.

What's troubling me a lot (not the most, but a whole lot) is that I can't afford to get 5 rolls of film printed. Well, they're already processed and ready for me, but won't be mine until payday. In turn, I've been writing twice as much to fill my daily free time. Do you know what this means?

It means I'm already doing what I want to do.
See; you all waste your time worrying about shit. You think you have to make it to a certain point or, or make a certain person believe you're a certain person, just to be a person that's certain. Shit on yourself. I don't want diploma, I won't waive a flag, and I don't have to impress you. And now, here I am, a fucking "rebel"? Really?. What do you think of when you hear that term? Am I supposed to feel cool? Or am I just downright wrong in the eyes of the law? The MAN. Would you call the Native Americans "rebels"? What about the Jews? African Americans? Rebellion is SCARY, huh? Unheard of!

I run my mouth, and it may not always be educated, but I write my script first.
The leading man never calls for lines.