Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (11 page)

“
So this song is about me in high school not being able to get laid. It’s called ‘Doesn’t Do It.’ ”

I instantly started to crack up (it hit real close to home) and continued laughing through the entire song.
1. Laugh
. Jimmy V was right. I really hadn’t done anything throughout the day, but it was a full day.

Session

JP: God, I remember the first time I lost my virginity; it was by no means beautiful or in any way special.

DT: Please stop, I don’t want to know any more about this because I’m pretty sure it will only make me feel even worse about my V-Card.

JP: Too bad, you get to vent all the time and now it’s my turn. It was my freshman year in high school in my neighbor’s shed, with a fellow band member who played the flute, named Helen. And let’s just say polyester band uniforms back then were not the most breathable material, and things got really hot and really sticky really quickly.

DT: Yep, I was right; even though that’s pretty gross, I’m still jealous. It’s probably due to the fact that you lost your virginity to a girl well before me, and you don’t
even
like
girls.

KEY TERMS:
MOPPING UP FOOLS, NKOTB,
THREE SHEETS
, BE MYSELF

Submitted on 7/21/09

Green

I’m not sure about other people, but there are essentially two times that I ever really get the desire to cut a rug, bring the funk, or otherwise showcase (or not) my skills of dance. The first of these two usually has slim to no consequences after said demonstration of dance moves, and that’s when I’m totally alone. When I think I’m alone, I’m usually correct on that assumption, but there are two exceptions to the rule.

The first exception happened my freshman year in college, when I had just transferred from Marietta College up to Wittenberg for a multitude of reasons that really have no relevance to this story, so I’ll tuck those away for a rainy day. I transferred mid-year and had only been at Witt for about a week and didn’t know many people aside from a few in my classes. Like any other normal NKOTB, I wanted to make a good first impression whenever I could.

So I was on my way back down to Marietta the first weekend of the spring semester (my first at Witt) to grab some things I had left, when I came to the realization that I was alone in my Jeep (Jeep Wave) so I began bringing my funk via Nelly’s “Luven Me”; interesting song choice, I know. I was dominating that front seat with my moves for a good few minutes or so when I looked over at the car next to me at the stoplight--busted. Laughing hysterically at me was a very attractive girl from my psychology class. Awesome first impression.

During my entire day in the San Jose airport, awaiting my return flight back to the Emerald City, there were some interesting things going on in my head, and one of those things was a feeling of oneness or wholeness or some sort of connectivity with everything. To express this feeling, I was “lucky enough” to find an observation deck attached to the terminal outside the airport, where I could go to dance. Most people probably use it to watch the planes fly in or take smoke breaks, but where’s the fun in that?

I spent a good hour or so (not too sure how long as the feeling of timelessness set in again) busting my moves on the top of that observation deck, pausing only for inbound and outbound planes. No one was around, so I felt totally comfortable with the display of random body convulsions known as my dance moves. I’m sure the video surveillance tape of me “dancing” on the observation deck is a cult classic at all of the San Jose airport’s holiday parties.

The other times I feel like dancing are when I am
Three Sheets
(great show, BTW) to the wind. When I’m at the point in the night where I forget my name, chances are I’m on the dance floor mopping up fools, in a manner of speaking. Other than the few times when I almost got into fights (with groups of girls, big of me, I know) I cannot recall a night when I ended up in a dance-off; or a time when jamming out while cruising down the road wasn’t fun. The only times I feel awkward or embarrassed are when I get caught: that exact moment when my comfort level drastically drops, due to my perception that someone else really cares about what I’m doing.

When I think about it later, I’m pretty sure they don’t care. I know it shouldn’t matter if I look like a fool to someone else, because why should I care? But I think that’s just human. I care what my peers think because I’m part of them; it’s a form of connection. Being part of this connection, I shouldn’t worry about the people judging me from the wall or the ones laughing in the car next to me, but rather the ones challenging me to my next dance-off and dancing alongside me. I’m working on trying to be more like myself, and I think a part of that is not putting so much weight on what other people think of me. If I can do that, I might never stop dancing; another example of something that is good for me and even better for humanity.

Session

JP: I’ve worked in the past with some individuals who also have experienced timelessness in their mania, so this seems to be a fairly common symptom. Many of them seek answers in other places, such as spirituality. They read and relate to works by Dr. Stan Grof, Ken Wilber, R. D. Laing and C. G. Jung. Have you heard of these writers or any of their books?

DT: Yeah, I’ve read some Grof and Laing, but I found
The Science of Mind
by Ernest Holmes pretty interesting. It even inspired me to attend a spiritual service at my own free will.

JP: Did you only attend that one service?

DT: Yeah, well the service was on Sunday morning. That’s right after Saturday night, man. I mean, who thought that was a good idea?

JP: Unpopular and boring people did . . . Well, if I wasn’t going to hell, I surely am now.

DT: Ah, naw, you were definitely already going to hell.

KEY TERMS:
“NORMAL,” B-DAY GAME, WOODY HARRELSON, HER WILL

Submitted on 7/23/09

Green

As part of my recovery plan last year after my episode, I moved home to try to figure everything out. It was late summer, and my days consisted of getting up at the crack of ten or eleven in the morning; even then, it was a process to drag my butt out of bed. Then I took my six pills to become “normal” and sank into a TV-watching coma that lead to passing out on the couch for another hour or so. I’d get up and eat dinner, take another six pills to maintain my mood (drugged) and eventually pass out an hour or so later for the night. All in all, I was only getting around fifteen hours of sleep a day, the epitome of unproductivity. To try and counter this, I started working at my college job again, sealcoating blacktops; nothing too serious, but nonetheless a step. During lunches, we used to play the best game, and I’m bringing it to you now (thank me later): the Birthday Game.

Here’s how it works. I’ll go ahead and list a number of celebrities/famous peeps whose birthday is today, and you then try to guess their ages (*the answer key is at the bottom, but no cheating because you’re only cheating yourself). Here we go:

1. Nomar Garciaparra
   

2. Monica Lewinsky
   

3. Woody Harrelson
   

4. Eriq La Salle
   

5. Philip Seymour Hoffman
   

6. Gary Payton
   

7. Daniel Radcliffe
   

8. Don Imus
   

9. Slash
   

10.) My mom

Yes, today is the birthday of my mom, and this year I wanted to do something really cool and original for her. Over the past few months, my parental units have sort of caught up to the twenty-first century and begun using their phone for more than just talking--yes, texting. How freaked out are you when you get a text from your parents for the first time? I’m still recovering.

Since my mom has decided to take advantage of the multiple functions on her phone, I decided I was going to send her a birthday text. As I do with many of my friends, I texted the opening lyrics to 50 Cent’s “In Da Club.” She either didn’t get the text or didn’t know how to respond.

I was in quite a dilemma and had to act fast on my feet, so I booked it over to Target and started to frantically look over the b-day cards for that perfect one. You know, the one that someone else wrote but encompasses exactly what you were thinking, thereby allowing you to put as little thought as possible into that card; but I never found it.

Currently, my mom does not know I’m writing this blog, due to the fact I haven’t told her. I’m not sure of the exact reason why I haven’t, but I think I was trying to protect her in some weird way. I can’t imagine what my family and friends are going through, trying to figure BMD out with me, but I think I have a little idea for my mom. We haven’t been the most emotional family in the world. Three boys growing up together in the fields doesn’t lead to sharing our feelings every night at dinner. That time was spent making fun of each other.

So when I got diagnosed with BMD, there was a learning curve for all of us. I would like to imagine that for Mom, it’s kind of like a peewee football coach waking up one day to read in the paper that he’s the new head football coach for the local professional football team. Sure, the coach knows football, but he’s probably a little overwhelmed because his skills are not at the level that’s needed to run a professional team; and for that matter, he didn’t even apply for the job.

There’s one thing I got from my mom that I know will get us through this just fine: her will. My mom is the strongest woman I know, and there’s no way we all could handle this without her. I just wanted to say thanks for that, Mom, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to be OK.

Happy Birthday.

(BTW, I did send my mom the link to this blog so she can read it now)

*1.) 36 (I’m still jealous of him for Mia Hamm)

2.) 36 (I’m still jealous of her for Bill Clinton)

3.) 48

4.) 47 (
Just let your soooouuuuul glow, baby)

5.) 42

6.) 41 (The Glove; gotta be one of my Top 5 NBA nicknames ever)

7.) 20

8.) 69

9.) 44

10.) (Like there’s any chance in hell I’m telling you that, I like my life and don’t want it to end)

Session

DT: I hadn’t read this one in a while. I like it a lot and forgot how many awesome celebs my mom shares her birthday with.

JP: Hello, Mom? It’s John-Paul, sorry I haven’t called in a while . . .

KEY TERMS:
FORTUNE COOKIE, HILLBILLY ROAD TRIP, STALL GUY, ARCA

Submitted on 8/3/09

Green

I once read in a fortune cookie that in order to know where you are going, you must understand where you have been. Currently, in my day-to-day life, I’m in a transition period as I’ve decided to totally switch career paths and venture back to school. Having this opportunity to start over, I decided to take a mini vacation over the past week to try to reconnect with my past and hopefully pave the way for my future (don’t get too impressed as I have yet to tell you what I actually did). I had a few options to choose from for my vacation destinations, including a trip down South to the beach and a venture out West to the mountains. While both of these destinations would have proved to be great getaways, I knew I needed to dig a little deeper into my past in order to get the results the cookie’s fortune had revealed. A hillbilly road trip was my only true vacation destination.

As any experienced traveler knows, it is always a good idea to have at least one other person along with you on road trips; remember, safety in numbers. To begin my weeklong travels, I had one of my good friends, JD (BTW, I’m only using his initials to protect his identity because I never asked his consent to use his full name) accompany me to the first vacation destination, The Brickyard 400. Yes, that is a NASCAR race and yes, I know, it’s a perfect way to start a hillbilly road trip.