Reconciling Saints

Life is short, guys. Too short. I've had plenty of reminders of this in the past... few months? I mean, I always do, but...

There is not going to be any time later that's better to do x, y, or z. There's only now.

This might not necessarily be true, and yet it kind of is. What's so different from then... now? What will you learn? If anything, perhaps you should ask yourself, what won't you learn.

You won't until you do, so do it.

I'm writing a book. NOW. Right now. I keep thinking that this book idea I have is something I'll write later when I have a better idea for it, a clearer picture of it, have become a better writer. It's not gonna happen if I keep waiting, and really, what am I waiting for???? This is what I want to do, this is part of my passion. So I want to do what it is that I want to do, now. It seems to me the only time I really have is the present; everything else is merely borrowed, gambling on a future investment.

I've recently learned that I'm quite passionate about talking about mental health issues... specifically about bipolar disorder because that's what I know. It was devastating to me when I was diagnosed, and now I find that it's not so bad. Why is it that they make it sound so horrid, like all of a sudden you're one of the walking dead? Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!!!

Yes, there are meds. Yes, there are therapists, psychiatrists, and doctors. Yes, you have to relearn how to do certain things.

BUT! But you get to stop being totally out of control all the time, and you get to take a break from what you're used to that has gotten out of hand and is maybe no fun anymore. You get to learn new skills for life, and listen to yourself in a different way. This way, maybe after a while you don't need all the therapists, psychiatrists, and doctors, maybe you won't need all the meds. With these new skills - by learning your own tells, noises, and signs - you can start doing more on your own so that you're more like the you that you were used to, but smarter... and with mad skills, yo!

Bipolar really isn't so bad, and one can learn to live with it without ALL OF THE MEDS! and ALL OF THE DOCTORS, SHRINKS, AND THANGS! 

That is what I wish I knew in high school, and it's something that I wish I had found a book on at that age. I found so much understanding through my books, but I didn't find this. Don't worry, though, it's nothing that I knew to look for or even  knew I was missing. Still, I want to write the book I wish I had in high school, that book that opens my eyes and makes me feel that someone out there gets it, someone out there understands.

I want to let people know that I get it. Maybe it'll be one of the nieces or nephews, who knows! I want them to know that I get it, and I'm here to help them figure out the why and how of it, if only by leading by example.

So there's no time like right now! For me, because who knows! For them... the kids out there that I understand... because... well, also, who knows?! I'd like to give them a little more time if I can.

I've come to think of what I'm writing as Shards of Glass - as a title, that is. I tentatively entitled my "novel" Glass and currently all I'm getting are shards. Some are totally disconnected and have nothing to do with anything except trying to get me to the next point, to break through and continue to form the story.

Last night's writing was more of an experiment to spew everything that's in my head out so there are some sections that look a lot like this:

There are many ways that this story can go and sometimes, like those stories, I can be overwhelmed by choice. I remember a story I read that a classmate of mine in University had written where the characters were all standing around having a beer as the writer went out to have a drink trying to figure out what came next. At first I didn’t get it, but once the brilliance of the idea came across I had to wonder, did I just not get it or did he just not convey it properly? Both? I dunno, hard to say.

I leave my characters to sit and drink in lounges waiting for me to figure out what comes next all over the place. Perhaps there’s a bar that they’ve all made so that they could keep each other company.

The scene would be something like this:

Anastasia had been sitting in the parking lot forever waiting to see where it was she going to drive off to.

“Fuck it,” she declared, taking the keys out from the ignition and grabbing her things into her pockets. (I suppose stuffing her things into the pockets of her jackets, would be a more accurate way of putting it.)

She watched other patrons she vaguely knew or had heard of enter and exit the bar. Some were outside smoking as they were wont to do as, they could never figure out if the bar had actually allowed smoking in it or not. Laws came and went so quickly and the author had a penchant to change her mind that came and went at her whim.

She passed by a group standing next to the door and figured she’d check in on them later, if they decided to come in and hang out or leave.

On entering the bar, she spotted a seat that seemed to have been pre-cleared for her that night.

Maybe this was all pre-written too, she thought.

She took a seat and asked the bartender for a gin and tonic. Much like what she thought would be appropriate as that had been what she drank in those days.

“I’m Mike,” said a voice next to her.

She swiveled in her bar stool and directed herself at Mike.

“Mike? You’re Mike? Thee Mike,” and before he could answer, she said, “Nice to meet you.”

Mike looked in place and yet out of sorts. It was the only thing he could do as he was a non-character here in this world. He was an idea, a muse of sorts. He was inspiration.

“I know you but I don’t think we’ve met,” he said extending his hand.

She took a drink and shook his hand.

“You I know well,” she nodded and drank again. “I seem to have a lot of lore on you.”

“Is this all based on what could have beens? Is this all based on things that She’d like to do? I’m not exactly understanding what’s going on here. I mean, is this all based on Her whims to leave or not? Stay and figure things out or change?”

“Pre-cisely!” Anastasia winked and took another sip.

“I’m a bit more of a legend around here as the my story wasn’t supposed to have a neat little ending. My story had only to do with my getting over you. You’re not in it of course, outside from my understanding and knowing of you. Well, and how you affect me.”

Mind you that's just me throwing up words on a screen so there's no editing that has been done to it. I just thought I'd put that out there so that you all knew I was still writing, still working things out and not just lost to the void.