Tornado in my head

I live a pretty charmed life. That is what it looks like. I am living the dream. My life long passion has been bicycles. I love them. I have owned bikes from every decade from my 1934 Marshall-Wells Zenith to my 2011 Gary Fisher Simple City. I made my living working on them, selling them and racing them. I have travelled through 20+ countries via bicycle. I currently work in a bike shop. I am married, own a little 50's bungalow, a car (Volvo-duh) and a motorcycle. I have 2 sons. It looks pretty good from the outside looking in. I am affraid that one day I will wake up and realize this was indeed just a dream.
The truth of the matter is that I have been diagosed with rapid-cycle bipolar . I don't know what that means. There certainly is a lot of social stigma associated with BPD. Am I insane? Will I fly off the handle with the right stimuli? Can I control mysef?  Will I kill somebody? Will I kill myself? Can I be trusted?
Today, even though I am current with my meds (Lamictal & Celexa) I am fighting a stornm in my head. I want to run... no matter how fast I run, ride my bike or drive I can not escape my demons. I have been walking around my house aimlessly. I go upstairs, put on the tea kettle. wander out front yard.Go back in through the back door...forgot about the tea kettle -good thing it whistles- Back downstairs with my Irish Breakfast tea. Hiding from the storm like an Iowan hiding from a tornado. While hiding in the basement, "Breakfast at Tiffany's"  will be the movie of the afternoon...The whole while I feel like one of my sisters has me pinned down to the floor and thumping my chest mercilessly. I can't get up...That is just today. Tomorrow will be better. It had better be. If not it will be worse.
The upside to my disorder is that I am a creative, artistic, intellegent, tender-hearted romantic. That is what I want people to see. Not the disorder. When I am manic the world is my oyster. I am unstoppable. When I am down...you don't see me. I hide.
Today, I am hiding.
FixMe.

Someone I know.

I know an artist. He is an interesting man, about 25 or so. He is living the dream of a struggling artist; flat ass broke, barely sheltered, scraping together donations to get more art supplies. He has had a sorted past. He puts out some really brutal artwork. Lots of angst. Street art. You have seen it. you just didn't know who did it.  Look around you. There it is. and again over there. Look around you. You never know what you will see. That is what makes him, it, art, so interesting. Sometimes I ride my bike different routes home to see what there is to see. Because you never know. Maybe there will be nothing, but you don't know until you look. Some of the best Spokane has to offer is not on the way to anywhere. Despite the losses he has incured, despite the unfairness in his past, he has a huge, sincere heart.  A heart that wants to be heard, understood. He put out the kind of art that will likely not be appreciated until after his death. Which would suck. I know that he is good. Do otheres see what I see? He shows me things I don't otherwise get to see.
The thing about him is that he likes me, and I am not sure why. Maybe it is because I have always been nice to him, treated him with respect, helped him when I can. At least with bike work. He rides a dope fixie.
End of story. for now. You can see for yourself:
http://blog.kamikaze-cycling.com/search/label/Vrooman

The Gay Agenda

So I was talking with a couple of women the other day (Donna and Rita-pseudonyms) Donna said she would like to bring her son down to look at something that I was selling. Later in the conversation, Rita said she would have to talk to Tony about it. I asked if Tony was Donna's son. She replied, "No, Tony is ...my...domestic partner." I pondered that for a moment and disregarded it. Later in the conversation, Rita referred to Tony as "she." I made the connection. - Stay with me here or you'll jump to the wrong conclusion-
I did not judge Rita, nor Tony (or, as I now understand, "Toni") I am an accepting person. I take people at face value. I let their action form my opinion, not their title, ie: African-American, Gay, junkie...
Later, I heard a guy on TV saying that he doesn't care if somebody is gay as long as they don't push their agenda on him. I thought about that. So really, he is offended by Gays. Look at it the other way: I don't mind Hets as long as they don't push their agenda on me. You see, I was pushing my Het agenda on Rita. I assumed that Tony was a guy, and that she and he were "together." Assumptions can be seen as an "agenda."
The Het agenda is so pervasive that the guy on TV didn't realize how unaware he was.
I was unaware. We do a lot of things everyday that we are totally unaware of. It is hard to know what we are doing "wrong" when we are not even aware of its existence.
I try my best to be good. Perfection is unachievable, but it doesn't stop me from trying to learn new things, increase my awareness of my world.
Thanks for letting me share tonight.