Monday, March 25, 2013

Schizophrenia. As Much Fun As A Bag of Dicks.

Hey gang.  Remember how I said I was going to interview my schizo friend and then I went AWOL?  Yeah.  That was cool.  Turns out transcribing audio to text takes a REALLY long time and is pretty tedious.  Instead, I'm going to just post the actual 90 minute recording.  15 minute segments over the next 6 posts.  Yeah.  I did the math.  Suck a rock!  My calculations are correct.  I checked it twice.

I know I'm usually pretty flippant in my posts and talk about poop and licking things, (although never those two together) but this time I wanted to mention how much I'm in awe of my friend Matt and how honored I feel to call him a friend.

He took an hour and a half out of his day to talk to me candidly about something incredibly personal which leaves him wide open to others judgements.  He knew that I was going to post what we talked about on my public blog but that didn't stop him from holding back at all.

I've seen him come to work after a bad night.  A night full of static and voices refusing to let him sleep.  His eyes are a little glassy and at half mast, yet he takes the time to stop by my desk and crack a joke to make me laugh.

I've watched him in company meetings where he's clearly not doing well.  His eyes shift and dart around the room and up at the ceiling.  He's fidgety and nervous.  I look down at my phone to check a text.  When I glance back up Matt is gone.  Having quietly slipped out of the meeting while disrupting not a soul with the private nightmare he's enduring alone.

*Audio player is only working with firefox and explorer.  Apologies.  Technology is an asshole.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

White Picket Prisons, Another Bout of Stupidity and Schizophrenia

This part of the post is long overdue.  Shocker, I know.  About 17 years ago, Phil Taylor of The Phil Factor blog, contacted me requesting that I read and review his book he self-published, White Picket Prisons.

I agreed and he most likely immediately regretted it.  He wanted to send it to my ipad.  I don't have an ipad.
He wanted to send it to my kindle.  I don't have a kindle or anything remotely similar.

He send it to my e-mail in a PDF.  I know.  So pedestrian.

Oddly enough, it had exactly the same words as it would have if it had been read via ipad or kindle.  *gasp*  I KNOW!

And it was an easy, fun read.  I read it over a weekend and while there were parts that had me scratching my head in disbelief, I enjoyed it.  While the plot continuously encouraged me to enter into a willful suspension of reality, it was enjoyable.  The characters almost made me want to look up some of the guys they reminded me of from back in the old school days.


You can check it out for yourself here or here or check out Phil's own blog here.  I know he would love some more reviews of his work. 

Speaking of work, (I know, totally smooth segue) Kianwi and Ken decided to host K&K's couch to 5K and encouraged everyone, wherever you were, to join in. 

Like an effing idiot, I signed up.  Enthusiastically, even!  Awhile ago.  And then did virtually nothing to prepare for it.  OH!  Except I did hang out with a friend before-hand where I enjoyed a vodka cocktail...or two. 

No big deal.  I could still do it.

My trepidatious self-portrait on the way to the gym.  What?  I was driving.  And feeling more than a little apprehensive.  
 How difficult could this possibly be?  I was going to a gym.  Inside.  On a treadmill.  I was practically cheating!

And yet, it didn't feel like cheating.  It felt like a monumental effort just to keep myself from pitching off the back of the stupid treadmill.

I was sweating.  And glaring.  And daring anyone to make eye contact with me.  And mentally cursing Kianwi and Ken.  Not really.

Yes.  Really.

Eventually, that stupid little digital number got to 3.1 and I hit that giant red STOP button.  I wasn't going one step further than was required. 

I gasped my way to the locker room, collected my belongings, and stomped my way to my Jeep that transported me home where I immediately collapsed and didn't care how this proved how pathetically, deplorably out of shape I am. 

But dammit.  I did it!

One last thing for anyone still with me.  A good friend of mine, who happens to be plagued with schizophrenia, has agreed to let me interview him on Thursday.  He's always been very open and candid about his disease and if anyone has any questions they'd like me to include, let me know, either in the comments or by e-mail.

Okay.  Stick a fork in me.  I'm done.