Okay, I'm At A Loss, and It's Terrifying Me.

For the first time ever, I cannot explain what is going on in my head. But it's bad, bad, bad.

I can describe how it feels. Just not why it feels that way.

It feels like I am crawling through a cave, through the veins of Mammoth Caves they don't let you into because people get lost, get stuck, and die. You don't even have to be claustrophobic (I am) for that to scare you. Like the crawling scene in that movie The Descent (terribly bloody, but the scariest part is them crawling through a cave).

So this rock is all around me, pressing on me, and I can't breathe. Not just because I'm skeered, but because it's tight in certain spots. This can be attributed to the fact that I have some sort of upper respiratory infection and there are times I CAN'T breathe.

The rock is literally pressing in on me at points, and I want OUT--I WANT OUT! OH, PLEASE HELP ME GET OUT!--but then I fight and scream and I'm through that tight spot. But I'm still in this narrow tunnel in the dark, and the next spot like that could be a few inches ahead. And it could be the last.

I've also been having hallucinations, transparent dreams that overlay reality, actually, that I've been abducted and they've put tape over my mouth. I can't breathe, but I can't tell them I can't breathe because of the tape.

There are varying theories about why this is happening. I think it's a combination of being overworked at my job (my boss is in intensive care in the hospital, so I have no help at a job even the two of us got behind on), and the new med. I pulled a knife, for pete's sake! I obliterated a phone at work. These weren't petulant little rants. These were "breakthroughs" of aggression that broke through the meds.

My psychiatrist thinks the inability to breathe is triggering panic sensors in my brain, and wants me to go see if it's pneumonia or bronchitis or asthma.

All I know is it has to stop. I am crying and pacing again--which is very, very bad. It means I have to get away, but anywhere I go will be just as bad as where I currently am.

The cave analogy wasn't just an analogy. That is exactly how I feel. I can literally feel something pushing my head down.

I just need it to stop. I don't care how , it just needs to. The meds are helping me fight it, but I'm really tired. Hard to sleep when laying down intensifies things, and I can't sleep if I'm away from my wife because I'm sleeping sitting up on the couch.

It needs to stop. It's terrifying me, I can't function, and it needs to stop.

I Pulled a Knife On a Guy This Morning.

Didn't open it, but pulled it. He cut in line, and things escalated verbally. I didn't pull it as a show of force--I don't even think he ever saw it. The people in line behind us did. He did feel me grab his arm and jerk him so he'd look at me.

I am digressing, and I hate it. And it scares me. I'm also hallucinating. I can't breathe recently--nasal passages or something--and whenever I just sit still with no thought on what I'm doing or will do, I see and feel myself abducted and tied, duct tape over my mouth. Of course, I can't breathe through my nose, so I panic like I'm in a claustrophobic situation. When I "come to," I can't breathe enough to calm down.

Either of those things will get me locked up again, so I keep going like nothing's wrong and don't tell the docs.

I just want to feel better. Life is like having a headcold Nyquil won't get rid of. So now you're tired and spacey from the meds, and tired and spacey from the headcold, and you're just waiting for the cold to go away.

When you're bipolar, you always have that "cold". Sometimes it doesn't go away. Blech. Life is kind of miserable right now, even after an awesome anniversary weekend, and a picture my son drew in class of me and him holding hands.

Thank goodness for my little girl and son, and the things they do. Bipolar can't be cured, but it can be fought, and they help me fight it.

STALKING CAT = OLD GUY WALKING THROUGH SNOW?

Ever notice the correlation?

Cat, creeping forward:
Does it see me? Does it see me? *FREEZE!* Nope, didn't see me.

Old guy, creeping forward:
Am I falling? Am I falling? *FREEZE!* Nope, I'm not falling.

GAH! STUPID LITHIUM MADE ME FORGET WHAT I WAS GOING TO POST

Seriously! It was like profound profounded profoundness just jumped up and gave me a dry willy with a pipe cleaner as I was driving home, and now I can't remember what the frick it was. And my hands are shaking. Both side effects of lithium.

So I'll just say that I'm getting so old that it sounds like a dubbed Kung Fu movie when I bend over to tie my shoes in the morning. HUHU. Woohah! Grrrooooooaaaaaannnn.

On a totally unrelated note, here's a VERY naughty video about Aunt Flo visiting your wife (I warned you. Don't complain.):

Down To the Old Pub Instead

Why Miley Cyrus Owns Your Daughter, and Why She Terrifies Dads Everywhere

This is genius.

Link to the music I'm talking about can be reached by clicking here. Just spelling it out, in case someone doesn't know how Links work.

Genius. Your daughter is in this video. You may not see her, but she's in there. Miley Cyrus' marketing or management or whoever made this video, put all these girls (including your daughter) in this video, a sorority kindred because nearly every teenage girl considers their puppy luv the most important, earth shaking thing in the world.

This is when Miley Cyrus began her real takeover of the world. Every girl that watched it was a part of that video. And your daughter will eventually be the one that makes sure you're out of the way in said conquest. Not by shooting you in the face with a small caliber pistol, but more when she begins dressing and acting like the current, can-be-had-for-X-amount-of-dollars-looking Miley. She's always skirted that line, but she only recently realized, "I'm a leggy little thing," and began dressing in ways we do not want our daughters to emulate.

Yes, you have legs. Everyone does. Please covers them a little more. You're not as head-turning as you think you are, and your management miscalculated. You're not swaying dads, you're making them mad.

Myeh, could be worse. At least she's not the straight up, skeezy, skanky, probably infected with VD's they haven't even named yet piece of amoral white trash known as Kesha.

Yet another thing called a link where you click here and it takes you to a website.

If parents knew that most of the parties their kids go to are like what she's singing about, the party scene would crash. Other parents, please help me crash the party scene.

Also, Kesha is skinny to the point of nasty. I'd rather have my daughter end up like Lady Gaga. No, I'm not linking that freak. If she had Miley's minions, this world would be in trouble.

Mad Max Broke His Finger, but I'm Pretty Sure It's Not His Trigger Finger

Me'n my dearest wife were watching our Cleveland Cavs treat the Miami Heat like the little guy in the prison cell tonight, and she asked about Delonte West.

In case you don't know, the Cavs are taking the rest of the NBA--including your favorite team--and punching them in the face. In front of their woman. Not bullying, because they're too classy to bully, but your team thought the Cavs were someone they could pick on, and they're not. So they smashed your team for running their mouths and getting all up in they grill.

Sorry. We're also Browns and Indians fans, so we're rubbing the Cavs in everyone's faces. Until they suck again. Then we'll just watch the Browns, Indians and Cavs silently. At least we'll still have Ohio State.

Also if you don't know, Delonte West was arrested for speeding on his motorcycle. With guns. When they pulled him over, he had two pistols strapped to his thighs and a sawed off shotgun in a guitar case over his shoulder. At least the news called it a guitar "case". I think it was one of those soft guitar gig bags. But, if the news media knew anything about anything, they wouldn't be the news media.

Anyway, Delonte West is bipolar. He was off of his meds and had just separated from his wife. I found it fitting to dub him Mad Max.

Mad Max now faces charges, and we could lose him right around playoff time to either a trial or sentencing or both. This is not cool, because he is pound for pound one of the toughest players in the league. He has a gang tattoo on his neck. He dunks over guys inches taller--and he's only average athletically compared to other NBA players. He's left handed. He does that thing where he gets into someone's face, but his face is actually to the side, and he's just staring into space...yeah. That means it's on, and you're about to get bit before he knocks yo sorry self flat the F out.

There was something I noticed when he showed up for his first game. He was inactive for the beginning of the season, and they wouldn't even let him sit on the bench. When he finally did come back and his name was announced, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Not because he's such a star player. He's a very good player, but he's no Lebron or Shaq. It was because it was made public he was bipolar. Even the worthless Cleveland news media reported the case differently when they found out that fact.

So what? So what. Except this does show that people are starting to accept the fact that bipolar is an illness. The outlandish behaviors are symptoms. Just like people with epilepsy can't help their symptoms, bipolar sufferers are not able to control their moods. This is scientifically proven. And some of those moods and actions are dangerous.

Just for comparison, the Browns had Braylon Edwards and Kellen Winslow, both gifted players. Both headcases, but in the selfish way. Well, Braylon was very big in the community and charity, but he complained. And partied. And punched one of Lebron James' buddies in the face. Winslow was traded early, and Braylon was traded nearly immediately after the face punching incident. And Cleveland fans gave them a helpful push in the back to get them the heck out of town. Very different scenario with Mad Max.

Now, Mr. Max should have been on his meds. That's why he had this episode. That's why people that are (relatively) stable do absurd things, because they ditch the meds.

Mad Max recently broke his finger and has been out. I don't think it was from overusing his trigger finger, but I don't know.

People speculate about what he was doing with the guns. He sped up when he saw the cops, like he wanted to be caught. They say it was a cry for help. But he was heading in the general direction of his estranged wife. He was off his meds. With guns. I think it's pretty obvious what was going on.

Dude is multi-talented and generous, I think. He's actually a singing cowboy, but just during the off-season and just for adorable little bald cancer patients. Brings a smile to their faces. The pistols were props. His wife was fighting for custody of the horse, so he had to ride the motorcycle. He had the shotgun in the guitar bag because he didn't want anyone to steal his guitar.

See. Pretty easy to figure out when you look at the facts.

Our Truckdriver Was In the Office, Picked Up His Phone, and Said...

"Call ****sucker."

His phone answered in the robotic voice, "Calling ****sucker".

A second or two later, my boss's cell phone rang from his office, "Call from, ***hole. Call from, ***hole".

Talking phones with voice recognition are worth a chuckle.

Emporer Pope-a-tine (Yes, I'm aware I spelled it wrong. If I'd cared, I'd have changed it).

They were talking about the pope on the radio today, so it reminded me of this. I was wasting time making my own picture on paint.net, but someone else beat me to it. Still applicable. One is an evil dictator bent on gaining as much power as possible. The other was in Star Wars.

Just sayin'.