Exclusive Status Update: Facebook

What’s On My Mind?
… And I’m not the only one who feels this way, Facebook …
I know others who feel the same. (I’m not talking about those who really know you and those who you really know and who know what’s going on and understand the Silences.)
… It’s those other ones …
The ones who rarely come around, the ones you never see, the images of excess baggage, dragging you along a Station, that relentlessly keep swimming in your head … 
The Strangers we ALL know and have met before – 
The Arrogant Ones
Or Misguided Ones
The Ostentatious Ones
THOSE are the ones who need a different moniker, Facebook …  
Something other than “Friends.”
Instagram works much better. 
For me, at least. 
That’s ALL about Images. 
Illusion. 
Visuals. 
The Eye. 
No pretense there. 
And far more delightful to cross, even momentarily, another who loves the lens, just as much as you do … And who truly meets the criteria of a Stranger, yet oddly, feels like a friend …
From throughout the entire globe!
And is much less pretentious. 
There, you merely “follow.”  
And FAR more exciting. 
So would you please stop making it impossible for me to deactivate my account!
(In the meantime, I suggest you establish a new category here, titled, and devoted in its entirety to … “Strangers”)
That’s what’s on my mind, Facebook. 

What Freedom Looks Like To Me (Photography)

Yesterday was a monumental day for me. And so my friend, Jessica, and I celebrated in an appropriate fashion. I danced. I balanced on a precarious wall. I saw beautiful and convoluted versions of Nature. –

JESSICA AND I   JESSICA DOES THE “BETTY” POSE. 

   HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF A PICNIC TABLE

  REFLECTIONS. CLOUDS ABOVE AND BELOW LETTING MY HAIR HANG

  THE WALL ON A LAKE

  THE IMPERFECT ARABESQUE 

   LOOKING UPWARD

  SAYING GOODBYE TO THE PAST

  

Finally. 
 

Up, Up and Away!

Had a really good time with my buddies, George and Sarah, yesterday in Rockville. He’s going to take me to Ocean City so we can just walk along the shoreline. We haven’t managed to work that out yet. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but now he understands it’s urgent to get me there, so we’re waiting for a good day (weather, no rain) to go there on a Sunday, Monday or Tuesday (his days off). Sarah (later) bought me two sketchbooks, cause I’m running out of paper, and we had this really (earlier) palatable (I can’t seem to handle meat, anymore) meal, something with fresh spinach and cheese melted and wrapped in a crepe. It took forever for me to order. I asked the guy very detailed questions about the menu selections, while trying to select something, make a decision.

Why are decisions sometimes so difficult?
But I did it!

And then, I needed more coffee, before I drove back to Baltimore, so Sarah went home and George and I went back to Starbucks for two shots of espresso. While they were making my coffee, the barista said (not to me): “The truck’s here.” to her coworker, in a funny way, and I looked outside and saw a semi, and I asked if the truck had coffee, and she said, “Yes.” And I said, “I wanna get on that truck!” And she laughed.

So George and I sat outside, while I drank my coffee, and the trucker had unloaded lots of stacked boxes, which were on a crate, and they were just sitting there, and I said to George, “Let’s hijack the truck!” (Not seriously). And he started laughing and said, “That would be really bad for your divorce case right now. And I’ve worked so hard to get stable (George has the greatest manic stories in the world! I was laughing so hard, I ended up on the floor, when he first told them to me.) it would be really bad for me too.” But he still thought it was funny. (And, tempting.) But the boxes just sat there. Filled with coffee beans.

Luckily, I had emailed Dr K when we first sat outside, and told him, I may be Hypomanic, but I wasn’t sure. And I think we need to increase my Trileptal. But he didn’t email me back until 2:00 AM. (I’ll get to that part soon.). So George asked me if I was okay to drive back, and I told him how much I love driving at night and cranking the music up, and that I would be okay.

So it was, like 9:00 PM.
And the boxes were still there!

And then the driver (he had been doing other stuff) was there too, and I asked if there was coffee in those boxes, and he said, “Yes.” And I said, “I want some!” And he said, “Which one do you want?” And I said, “French Roast, please.” Well, I didn’t get any. And I realized, I answered his question incorrectly. The Smart was a few feet away, and I should’ve said, “I want all of them. See the Smart, there? Just stack the entire block of 60 boxes on the roof, and I’ll be on my way.” Still, we had a lot of fun. As soon as I got home, I increased my Trileptal by 150 mgs, and the oddest thing happened. Within an hour, all the tension in my shoulders had vanished, the headache I had been battling since morning sprinted away, and I felt level!

Not normal.
Never normal.

Well, Dr K wrote me back at 2:00 AM, and I told him what I had done (With the meds. Didn’t dare tell him about the events leading up to the increase of meds.). Went back to sleep, and saw he had written back to me, and told me to keep the Trileptal at 500 mgs, not above, and divide it into 2 doses, morning and night. But I have no explanation for Giddy Attacks.

Fuck!
Oh, well.
George to the Rescue!
Once again.