I'm taking a brief break from buildmeasite coding to write a little mindless content.

Right now, I'm digging this good old remix of a song titled Bedtime Story. The song is by an artist who goes by the name Madonna. You may have heard of her.

(Just so nobody gets confused, that lyric is not the same song referenced above. Different artist. Different track. But it was next in my playlist.)

Despite having more free time than ever lately, my stress level has been unusually high. It could have something to anxiety caused by the felling that I don't know where the hell my life is going, often times feeling like a ship that's gone out of control.

Steady sailing.

I may have a prospect for a job tomorrow. Looks more likely than anything else so far. Nothing glamorous, mind you. Food service industry work. But it would be something, both to get me a little money, and a maybe little stability, in terms of getting out of the apartment a bit more often without having to feel guilty about it.

Long term... What do I want to do, in terms of career? Jumping in the car and taking an extended road trip is a fun idea, but even that would have to end at some point, if indeed it ever happens.

I have no specific ideas at this point. Only vague thoughts. Something tells me that I'm not going to want do programming as a livelihood forever. Some people move "upwards" from programming into management positions. That would not be my way.

Hmmm.... Lots of scattered, random notions, nothing more. I want to make ART. That's not necessarily even a statement of career, but of a possible purpose. Do something which expresses the human condition from my perspective, and maybe, just maybe, could even improve it in some way.

Hmmm.... My mind drifts back to a possible essay that's been turning over in my head for the past month. Could it be written in one evening? Maybe if my mind was in hyper-mode, like it was not so long ago. Somehow, I don't think I'm going to be able to bring myself back to that level for a while, nor do I particularly want to. During the most intense moments, it was plenty challening for me to simply maintain my grip on reality. I need time to sort out these experiences.

Hmm.... I suppose it would be a decent thing to give readers who are new, or do not already know, a little bit of an explanation as to my fluctuating mental states. It's not like it's a secret anyway these days, at least to readers of this web page.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with a mental condition known as manic depression, also called bipolar "disorder". I'd like to link to some authoritative online information, but all I can seem to find are a lot of semi-helpful pages with semi-complete information, and some sites with good info, but crummy web design. Here's one FAQ on the subject that's pretty decent.

To put it briefly, the fact that I have this "disease" (I am hesitent to call it that by that term, but that how it is commonly referenced) basicly means that, at certain times it my life, my mind goes through much more extreme emotional ranges than most people naturally experience.

(Technically, it is possible for "normal" folks to trigger almost exactly the same brain chemical reactions through the ingestion of certain substances, although possession of these substances just might be illegal in your neighborhood. In any case, it's not something I would recommend undertaking lightly.)

As for myself, I get to have the highs pretty much for "free", and there's very little the government can do about it, short of forcefully injecting me with tranquilizers. (This did happen several years ago when I was first diagnosed, during one of my most paranoid periods, before I knew what it was I "had", or how to control myself enough to stay within the bounds of the law, in what might be described as a waking dream state. I remember most of it very vividly; although certain portions, which other people say happened, blacked out completely from my memory.)

[Mmmm... and on a totally offtopic tangent, spicy habanero sauce from San Antonio sauce goes GREAT with Ramen. Yum.]

Obviously, there are some serious downsides though. (1) For every high, there will eventually be a low. Though it's not a strict 1:1 ratio, you can pretty much count on feeling awful in similar intensity to the great boosts that occur during the high periods. (2) If the high goes too high, you lose it. Completely. The mind goes wacko, off the chart. If this happens, it will most likely end in either a jail cell, a confinement bed, or a coffin.

Modern medicine has discovered treatments to temper or eliminate the extreme swings. Lithium, one of the most common prescriptions, turned out to be one that worked with me. I've been taking it, on and off, for over 6 years.

The "on and off" part is something that pretty much anyone in the medical community will tell you is a Bad Idea. Maybe they're right. I certainly came uncomfortably close to the edge during this last "off" period. Had I not gone into such an extreme bout last month, there's a good chance I would still be working at my old job.

Still, I can't say I regret allowing my mind to go where it did. This "trip" revealed to me a lot of things about myself, which I can now take with me. (Some of which wrote about during my wacked out weekend; 20+ ramblings in 2 days, thank you very much.) I believe I used my "illness" for some good. Even though it puts my in an economic crunch, and I didn't intend to be out of there so quickly, even losing my job may have been something that was needed.

Though most doctors would classify it as such, I am not so quick to call my mental set of patterns an illness. To me, it can be a precious gift. It can be a curse. It is part of what I am in this life. It has taken me years accept it. Sometimes, I still don't accept it fully. Sometimes, I use it to my advantage. I may employ chemicals to alter my mind, in an attempt to improve my existence in the world.

I have come to realize that for me, a fully "natural" existence is a nice-sounding myth. For a long time, I thought that the ideal way to live life would be to take as few "artificial drugs" as possible. This meme was likely influenced in no small part by my upbringing. My parents and teachers had good intentions, at least.

But not so long ago, I had "respectable" people telling me that I need to take these chemicials (aka drugs) regularly in order live a "normal" life. I would need to use concentrated pills to physically alter the chemical balance of my neurons, and this was to be "normal"? (Yet people who have a certain species of plants which occur in nature growing in their backyards are somehow criminals.) What's natural, and what's not?

I have more or less come to the conclusion that the distinction is moot, both for me, and perhaps for modern society in general. I take what helps me. Right now, I've come to agree, at least to a certain degree, with established medical science. Lithium helps me. I take it. Maybe not necessarily in the prescribed doses. I listen to my body. So far, I think I'm doing fairly well with that.

I've also come to believe that "the system", if allowed to have its way, will suck as much life as it can out of everyone. This system wants me to take enough lithium (and any other drugs it can manufacture) to turn me into a Good Little Drone. Be productive. Work your shift. Don't complain. Get married. Have 2 kids. Buy an SUV. Maintain a stable household. Serve the corporate state until retirement, and remain a rampant consumer until death.

Fitter, happier, more productive.

Sorry, that's not my game. I may play it at times when I need to, or as a means to help me achieve other ends in life, but I do not consider it my ultimate purpose.

Though there are a fair number of people in my "circle" who are aware of my manic depression, I don't believe it's a coincidence that the onle ones who advised me to "seek help" were those who (at least for a while) had an vested interest in controlling me. My former employer. The head of the department where I used to work.

I was not a complacent little drone anymore. I was writing a firestorm of messages on this website, many of them critical of various aspects of the company. Once they caught wind of that, and got their hands on a forwarded email which could be construed as incriminating, the guns had to be aimed in my direction. (I still don't know who that email really went through. At this point, that too, has become moot.)

Here's what gave me confidence in my own sanity, despite the knowledge that I was in the midst of a manic episode: Everyone else who I did know was supportive. Friends, family, a former mentor.

Even my parents. Maybe I was just doing a good acting job on them, but somehow, I suspect if I had been truly out of control (enough so to make acting impossible), they would have tried to send me to a doctor. They didn't.

A psychologist I know personally initially thought I should see a therapist or doctor. After talking for a few hours. I was able to convince him that I would make it through. While I wasn't totally opposed to medical help (if it came from the right places), I had some reservations, largely because I have seen a bias in certain members of the mental health community -- a bias against my culture. Hacker culture. Drug culture. Goth culture. Anti-establishment culture. Would my affinity for these things be perceived as part of my disease?

Would the fact that I had sex with a woman to whom I had paid money also be construed as a symptom of my illness? Almost certainly. Promiscuity is a classical symptom of a manic episode.

I have a different perspective. That part of my "disease" could even be something that evolution, in all its wisdom, intended. An enhanced drive for procreation during periods of mania might be nature's way of telling someone with my "condition" that, by God, it's time to get out there! A process of natural selection.

Somewhere in my mind, I knew that if I were to be hospitalized, my sexual encounter would likely be held up and "studied" as an exhibit of my illness. A defect. I theorize that this knowledge further motivated me to prove to the world that I am not insane. Or at least if I am insane, I'm not a threat to anyone. I simply wouldn't abide such a degradation of what I now regard as a sacred experience.

And now, I find my insane little mind once again typing endlessly into this web page, chewing away hour after hour of the night.

This went on longer than I planned. I was going to go back to coding buildmeasite tonight, but now, I think I'll do that tomorrow. I'm sure scottgalvin.com will be pleased.

And a little more Radiohead before sleep.